


In Light & Shadow

by Lycoriseum



Series: Aneril & Vareysa [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 81,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycoriseum/pseuds/Lycoriseum
Summary: An Altmer Dragonknight and a Dunmer assassin. The Vestige and her unlikely companion, set on a long journey to end the Planemeld.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me: creates 2 female characters in ESO  
> Brain: _MAKE THEM G A Y_

Aneril took a reflexive inhale at the cheerful call of her name, but bit down the frustrated sigh as Litan hurried forward to walk by her side. She looked to the Bosmer merchant with mild interest, eyeing his expectant expression and the open packet of jerky in his hand. Quickly scanning the wooded hills around the paved road they traveled on, Aneril sighed quietly and indulged the shorter elf, picking a small piece of jerky instead of voicing the reproach that had been brewing in her mind for days.

She had stumbled across Litan on the outskirts of Alinor, the merchant and his two guars held at knifepoint by dark-clothed assassins, who were quickly dispatched by Aneril. Litan then thanked his Altmer saviour gratefully, and managed to secure her protection for his journey to Skywatch in Auridon. Aneril had only agreed because she had business in Auridon as well, but started to regret her decision just two days into the escort job.

Despite his close brush with death, Litan bore little caution of one being actively hunted by assassins, and didn't hesitate to distract Aneril while she was on the job. Perhaps it was good fortune that there were no more attempts on Litan's life so far, but it was still too early to let her guard down. Stowing her private fusses into the back of her mind, Aneril finally brought the piece of jerky to her mouth, brows rising at how light and  _tangy_  it tasted. Almost as if…

She shot the Bosmer a questioning look. "It tastes…fruity."

"Aha! But it's not – just a little secret recipe of mine." Litan winked impishly at her. "This is all meat, I assure you."

"I'm sure," Aneril replied drily, turning her attention back to the road.

She was just savouring the silence in which they walked – Litan's chipper murmurs to himself and his guars notwithstanding – when a panicked scream pierced the air. Aneril spun in the direction of the scream, hand flying to the hilt of her sword as she conjured a shield on her left arm. She drew her blade when a figure sprinted through the trees, her surprise at the Dunmer's appearance quickly compounded when a herd of alits appeared behind the dark elf – and the bipedal reptiles looked positively  _angry_.

"Help!" the Dunmer shouted, but Aneril was already in action.

Gathering a fistful of flames, Aneril threw her shield-arm out, lashing at one alit with a fiery whip. The alit fell onto its side, legs and tail flailing in pain, as Aneril sidestepped another charging reptile and drove her blade down into its skull. A far cry from trained killers – or even purposeful animals on a hunt – these enraged alits showed no sign of coordination, and were easy targets to dispose of. Nearly ten fell under Aneril's blade, whip, and breath of flames, and the battle was over as quickly as it began.

Aneril looked over Litan and the two guars he hid behind, satisfied they were unharmed. Then her gaze fell upon the Dunmer from before, watching the dark elf pull a sharp dagger from an alit's skull. A respectable number of the reptiles lay dead around her feet, and there was a cool confidence about her where sheer panic had been, just minutes before. A light frown creased Aneril's brows, her suspicion stirring as the Dunmer stepped smoothly through the alit bodies to stand before them, bowing with a hand on her chest and an apologetic look on her face.

"I am truly sorry for bringing this danger down upon you, muthsera," she said to Litan, accurately guessing who the group's leader was. "But you have my deepest gratitude for saving my life."

"Ah, no," Litan laughed, gesturing at Aneril. " _She_  was the one who helped you. I was just…" He pointed lamely at his guars. "You know."

"Oh, I know." A lop-sided smile curved the Dunmer's lips as her red eyes rested on Aneril. "You have my thanks, mighty Altmer knight."

"What were you doing with the alits?" Aneril asked. She had dissipated her conjured shield, but kept the sword in hand…just in case. "They are usually solitary hunters, and not this aggressive unless provoked."

"That is…an embarrassing story," the Dunmer chuckled sheepishly, scratching at her head. Aneril noted the dagger still clasped casually in her hand. "I was hired by a researcher to collect alit specimens. But my plan backfired horribly, as you can tell." She heaved a sigh, and sheathed her dagger. "Now I just want to recollect myself in town. Where are you headed? May I join you?"

"Of course!" Litan declared before Aneril could voice her protest. "We're headed for Skywatch. Come, there is security in numbers." He patted at the base of the guars' tails, and the pack animals began trotting forward. Gesturing at his companions to follow, he said, "I am Litan, merchant. And you are…?"

"Vareysa," the Dunmer replied. "Free spirit."

"The best trade of them all," Litan said with a smile. "Oh yes, and this is Aneril, the warrior to whom I owe my life." He bowed his head to Aneril in mirth.

"Really?"

"Really," Litan confirmed. "Now, I've operated in Vvardenfell before, you know. And I dare say she's a match for the best Redoran warriors I've ever seen. There was this time when I…"

Just like Aneril, Vareysa didn't seem interested in Litan's tale. She held Aneril's wary gaze, with that easy smile ever on her lips. Then, with exaggerated slowness, she raked her eyes down Aneril's armoured body and up again. Unswayed by the apparent lewdness Vareysa's stare, Aneril narrowed her eyes at the Dunmer, recognising that she was being sized up as well.

Aneril returned the favour, taking in Vareysa's sleek leathers, which were trimmed and reinforced with quicksilver. They looked sturdy enough to withstand a fair amount of blows in combat, and light enough to afford a quick getaway. Her outfit, coupled with the daggers sitting at her hips, set Aneril's nerves on edge.

As if sensing her discomfort, Vareysa's lips parted in a sly grin. She ran one hand through her long, dark maroon hair nonchalantly, then turned her attention back to Litan. The Bosmer was blissfully unaware of the tension, and still chattering at great length about his adventures in Morrowind.

* * *

The journey to Skywatch seemed to stretch on much longer than it should be – Aneril couldn't relax since the Dunmer had joined them. Vareysa had acted every bit the 'free spirit' she'd purported to be, matching Litan's tales with those of her own adventures around Tamriel. But there was a cold, calculative edge in her gaze when Litan wasn't looking, and it made Aneril unsettled each time she noticed it. When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the tip of a sharpened blade resting against her back.

They couldn't reach Skywatch fast enough, Aneril lamented to herself, as she climbed the gentle slope of grass, scouting the open plain near which they had set up camp. Litan was probably sitting under the trees lining the road behind her, chatting endlessly with Vareysa. It was at once a source of relief and vexation to leave them behind, but the merchant had insisted that Aneril go about her nightly scouting rounds, and she was left with little choice but to do so.

Sighing sharply, Aneril set her gaze on the open waters far to the west, idly fidgeting with the straps of her steel bracer.

"Letting our guard down, are we?"

Aneril jumped, reaching for her sword when a velvety laugh filled the quiet night air. She turned around and frowned at Vareysa, who strolled slowly up the slope towards her. Clenching her jaw, Aneril decided not to entertain Vareysa with an answer – but it seemed the Dunmer would bait one out of her anyway.

Vareysa sauntered over to her and, without a break in step, plucked Aneril's shortsword from its sheath effortlessly. She stepped out of arm's range before Aneril could grab her – presumably by the  _throat_  – and ran an appraising eye over the polished blade. Her fingers slid down the sword's grip, and lingered at the eagle's crest on the crossguard.

"Interesting," Vareysa murmured, fingertips gliding over the blade. "I recognise this make. It is given to the Queensguard for their service." Twirling the sword in her hand with ease, Vareysa cast her eyes over at Aneril. "You're not one to steal. I assume you were once an agent of your beloved Queen?"

"It is none of your business," Aneril growled.

"No, it isn't." Vareysa conceded, though her tone said otherwise. She padded around Aneril in a circle, her ever-scrutinising gaze fixed on the Altmer. "Why are you a sellsword now, I wonder? Reduced to escorting Bosmer nobodies… Isn't that some form of disgrace to your people? Don't  _high_  elves always place themselves above others?" Her crimson eyes seemed to glint under the moonlight. "You're always a stickler for tradition and honour, racial supremacy and condescension, aren't you?"

Aneril's patience snapped. She snatched her shortsword from Vareysa's hands – growing more irate when she got the feeling she was only  _allowed_  to do so. "Don't you  _dare_  judge me or my people from where you stand."

"Oh?" Vareysa raised her brows, resting both hands on her hips. "And where do I stand?"

"I've been in the Queen's employ long enough to recognise a predator," she intoned. "I have seen the way you look at Litan – the way many have watched the Queen and wished harm upon her. You are a  _killer_."

Vareysa's eyes brightened in delight, and she threw her head back in a hearty laugh. "Oh, you are just  _wonderful_ , my dear Aneril." She strode forward in long, slinking strides befitting a 'predator', as Aneril had labeled her. "So polite even when you're angered. But don't do me a disservice. I am not a killer – you know there is a difference." She leaned in. "Now, if you please – say it. Expose me for who I am."

"Murderer," Aneril spat, hating each step she took into the obvious trap.

"Beautiful," Vareysa laughed quietly, deeply. "There's something in the way you say that…" Her smirk didn't waver when Aneril grabbed her forearm firmly.

"You will not take another life under my watch."

"Of course I won't. I would hate to get you involved in business. For now, I am just a lone, wandering Dunmer in Auridon. Puts me in  _such_  a vulnerable position, doesn't it?"

Aneril's grip on Vareysa tightened, for she understood what the Dunmer meant. Aneril could do nothing against her, not without evidence of a murder that hadn't been committed yet. She  _could_  turn Vareysa in as a spy, but she had no doubt the dark elf would find some way to slink out of that situation.

Shoving Vareysa's arm away in distaste, Aneril warned, "I'm watching you."

"The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure."

* * *

It had come to pass.

Aneril's escort job had ended upon their arrival at the trade hall in Skywatch, when Litan dropped a heavy coinpurse into her hand. Vareysa had made herself scarce then, and her absence only seemed indescribably suspicious. Aneril had made very thinly-veiled suggestions that Litan might still need her protection, but the dense Bosmer waved her away with a good-natured laugh. And now, he had paid the price for his carelessness.

Litan was found lying in a pool of his own blood at the inn, with his throat expertly slit open; there were no wounds on his body, no signs of a struggle in the room – it was the work of a professional. The instant Aneril caught wind of the news, she had stormed all over town in search of the Dunmer, and even scoured the wilderness around Skywatch for her. It was only when the sun had long set that Aneril finally found her – nursing a drink in a tavern, opposite the inn where Litan was murdered. The utter  _gall_  of the Dunmer, coupled with the fact that she had wasted all of Aneril's daylight, incensed the Altmer.

Aneril stalked over to the corner where the Dunmer sat, attracting the red-eyed gaze that seemed to light up at her arrival. She grabbed Vareysa's collar roughly, hauling her up from her seat. "You killed him," Aneril hissed.

"Who?"

Anger flaring in the pit of her stomach, Aneril shoved Vareysa hard against the wall and pinned her there, ignoring the warnings of the barkeep behind them. Her fingers dug harder into leathers when she realised Vareysa didn't try to resist the manhandling. In fact, she was so collected, it's as if she expected this confrontation. Or even  _wanted_  it. Vareysa's smile proved her pleasure, and Aneril had to resist the urge to break her nose right then and there.

"You know  _damn_  well who."

"Now, now." Vareysa raised her hands in an attempt to pacify her. "You don't want to start a fight here, do you? I don't know about you, but I don't much feel like being thrown into prison for causing a public disturbance."

"You belong there. You're a murderer," Aneril snarled.

"You keep saying that."

"Don't play coy with me. You  _know_  what you did."

"Well, now. That's the problem, isn't it? You keep insisting that I do, but I can't seem to recall  _anything_  for the life of me. How about this?" Vareysa purred, leaning in so they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Why don't you try to jog my memory, maybe over a few drinks?"

"You–"

"Ladies."

Aneril shot a glare back at the barkeeper, who had laid a hand on her pauldron. He kept calm under her venomous stare, obviously used to dealing with rowdy customers.

"Please do not cause trouble in this establishment, or I'll have to call the guards on you."

"Call them," Aneril said, dragging Vareysa forward. "I have the merchant's murderer here."

"What?" He looked at Vareysa incredulously, then back at Aneril. "I think you're mistaken. They've already caught the murderer."

"Excuse me?"

"They've caught the Khajiit who committed the murder. If you want more information, go to the guard office. Now please stop bothering my customer, and let her go."

Vareysa met Aneril's burning gaze with a devilish smile. "Or don't let me go. I'm quite enjoying this." She let out a chuckle when Aneril shoved her back.

Left without a choice under the barkeeper's scrutiny, Aneril made her way reluctantly to the exit. But not before Vareysa caught her eye, the Dunmer caressing the hilt of her dagger lovingly as she winked at Aneril.

* * *

Aneril headed right to the guard office, but was unsurprised when she couldn't convince them of the murderer's true identity. How could she? All she had were accusations, and not a single shred of evidence. So she requested for a visit to the scapegoat's cell. There she listened to his vehement claims of innocence, then slipped him a few lockpicks while the guard was distracted by his colleague. The Khajiit gave her a placid smile, his eyes cold and calm – he knew what to do. And, judging by his absolute composure, perhaps he knew all too well.

In that moment, Aneril knew she had stepped into something deeper, and that she should back away before she got involved as well. But that Dunmer still walked free…

So it was that Aneril found herself standing before the inn where Vareysa had lodged, waiting patiently for the elf to appear. The sun rose to its peak, and had begun its descent when her mark finally trudged through the inn's doors, eyes twitching shut from the sun's glare. Holding a hand up to shield her eyes, Vareysa looked forward, an all-too-familiar smile curving her lips when she spotted Aneril waiting by the road with arms crossed.

Aneril noted the faint hung-over expression on Vareysa's face when she came close and murmured, "My, you're going to spoil me silly, sera. To have a tall, strong knight waiting for me every day… One with such pretty blonde hair too."

Slapping away the grey-skinned hand that reached up to play with her fringe, Aneril said curtly, "I will follow you from now on."

Vareysa raised a brow in surprise, her smile growing wider. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I will follow you to ensure no innocent will die under your blade again," Aneril explained, only to have the dark elf chuckle quietly.

"Other than children, my dear, there are no innocents. But as you wish." Vareysa accepted her company with perplexing ease, then seemed to ponder on something and added, "No. How about a counteroffer?  _I_  will follow you."

Aneril cocked her head curiously. "Why?"

"Does it matter?" Vareysa sighed when Aneril's brows furrowed into a frown. "I have no further obligations for the foreseeable future, and that gives me the freedom to do whatever I want. So I offer  _you_  my companionship, and my blade in times of danger. Sounds good?"

"What do you really want?"

"Nothing." The dark elf shrugged. "I just want something to do while I…figure things out. Might as well do something noble and chivalrous with you in the meantime. That's what you self-righteous knights do, don't you?"

"I'm not a knight," Aneril said, letting Vareysa's comment pass.

"Of course, I understand. Now," Vareysa said, gesturing down the road with a flourish, and a satisfied smile on her lips. "Shall we?"

Aneril stood in place, torn by a second of indecision, which she then recognised was silly. She had gotten what she wanted, even if not quite in the manner she'd expected. She nodded and took the road leading out of Skywatch, with Vareysa keeping pace beside her. Well, at least she needn't worry about getting a knife in her back, and the Dunmer was quiet–

"I've been meaning to ask," Vareysa said. "Do you get bad breath from breathing all that fire out of your mouth?"

Aneril groaned, cursing her recent choice of companions. " _No_. It's magic."

"Really?" Vareysa grinned. "I thought you were a dragon hiding in snobby elf form."

 _Wonderful_ , Aneril thought.  _Just wonderful._


	2. Chapter 2

Contrary to Aneril's expectations, Vareysa hadn't been a problem since they started traveling together. In fact, she'd been of quite some help whenever Aneril worked with Razum-dar, even though she'd scoffed when Aneril accepted Ayrenn's offer to recruit her as an Eye of the Queen.

Despite Vareysa's apparent distaste for throwing one's lot in with a single sovereign, she  _did_  demonstrate a taste for coin and impressive finesse with her blades, and was thus more than happy to aid Aneril in her assignments. Aneril found herself getting embroiled in combat more often, acting as an agent for the Queen, but she rarely emerged from these battles with injuries worse than a stray sword slash or burn wound. Having an assassin's blade  _protecting_  her back gave Aneril more space to breathe during fights; often, she would deal with her handful of foes before spinning around to face the rest, only to find that they had fallen as well, their blood staining the wicked sharp edges of Vareysa's blades. Normally the Dunmer's smirk and wink would irk her, but it was a good sign to see in battle – it meant the tides were in their favour.

Outside of battle, Aneril would handle the likes of diplomacy and persuasion by herself, honing her fledgling skill with surprising agility, though she still met the occasional stonewall – especially when delving into the shadowy depths of the Veiled Heritance. That was when Vareysa would have Aneril sit tight while she slipped away for a few hours, before returning with incriminating documents in hand…and cheeky requests for a drink or kiss, as a reward for her hard work. An eye roll was usually all that she got, but Aneril had tossed her some coin for drinks now and then, even if she knew full well that the Dunmer didn't need it.

Weeks passed as Aneril slowly made her way from southern Auridon to the north, performing her duties and helping to restore order to the towns in turmoil, all the while with Vareysa at her side. Since the Dunmer hadn't brought any trouble down on their heads, Aneril was more inclined not to bother Vareysa with questions whenever her companion went off by herself, presumably on some private business.

A hundred questions rose to her lips, however, when Vareysa took her off-guard by falling through the open window of their inn room.

Aneril had shed her armour for the night, stretching her muscles before climbing into bed, when a knock on the window pane caught her attention. Fire crackled along her hands as she whirled around, muscles coiled to meet the intruder – who had been invisible at first, until the cloaking spell wore off.

Vareysa gave a pained groan as she tumbled onto the floor, careful not to land on her right, where a dagger was buried up to its hilt, just below her ribs. Aneril dissipated her magic and went over to the Dunmer, who moaned through gritted teeth as Aneril propped her up against the wall.

"What happened–?"

"First things first – my backpack," Vareysa breathed laboriously through paling lips, then cracked a tight smile when Aneril grabbed the pack with all urgency. "Small pouch inside. With vials of dark green liquid. Give one."

Aneril rummaged in her pack, finding the pouch and vials described, then uncorked one and handed it over. Vareysa snatched it from her hands, fingers trembling as she lifted the vial to her lips, and downed the potion in one go.

"What is it?" Aneril asked.

"Antidote," Vareysa panted, pointing at the dagger still embedded in her side, then waved Aneril over. "Help me with this. And be careful–!" She cried out in pain when Aneril touched the hilt. "Barbed!"

"Just who hates you so much?" Aneril set an arm across Vareysa's clavicles, gripping the dagger carefully as the Dunmer yanks a scarf from her pack. "Other than me, that is."

"I'll write you a list after this," Vareysa said breathlessly. "You can cast healing magic, right?"

"Wait–, you can't?" Aneril asked, unease mixing with her incredulity, and she lowered her arm. "No, I can't do it well. I can only heal superficial wounds, but I can't close deeper wounds fully–"

Vareysa grabbed her wrist before she could let go of the dagger. "Good enough. Now, do it."

"We should get you a healer–"

"Just do it!" Vareysa hissed. She rolled the scarf up and shoved the wad of cloth into her mouth, then gave Aneril a nod.

Dread rose to her chest in rapid thuds, Aneril wrestling with her better sense as she adjusted her grip on the hilt. She glanced back at Vareysa, who had screwed her eyes shut, her breathing more shallow and uneven. Aneril composed herself, then held Vareysa firmly against the wall with an arm.

"One," Aneril said, then wrenched the dagger out.

Vareysa's scream was muffled against the scarf, which dropped from her slack mouth as her head lolled forward in a daze, while her body was kept upright by Aneril. Tossing the wicked dagger aside, Aneril slapped at Vareysa's cheek when she seemed on the verge of passing out. Placing a hand over the wound bleeding red into Vareysa's black bodice, Aneril fought down her misgivings and cast her best healing spell, soft golden light about her hands working into the deep wound. But it soon became obvious that the spell was not enough – the blood flow barely lightened under Aneril's focus.

"Relax," Vareysa panted, grasping her arm. Turning her pain-clouded gaze towards Aneril, she said, "Work from the inside out. Knit the organs, then the flesh."

Aneril's head was already shaking from side to side even as she concentrated, brows furrowing. She could feel herself tremble minutely under Vareysa's grip, but repressed the shame at her own inability, and forced herself to relax. Closing her eyes, she recalled her mentor's lesson; don't force the healing – guide it, and seek to take the pain from the afflicted. She reached out with her magic, mending the deepest depths of the wound first, and pulled back slowly, torn flesh knitting back together in the wake of her magic…until it stopped halfway.

"I can feel it working," Vareysa said tiredly, though she sounded less faint.

"But that's all I can do for the moment. I should bring you to a healer…"

"No, I'm fine. Don't want to…expose myself." Vareysa's voice quietened as if she was speaking to herself, rummaging around her in pack and pulling out a bundle of bandages. "Should've stocked up on restoratives earlier," she grumbled under her breath. With Aneril's help, she shed her leathers and bloodied bodice, then bound her wound and put on a fresh shirt.

"Thanks," Vareysa muttered. She swayed to the left, setting one hand on the floor as she tried to get up, only to fall back down with a pained grunt. " _Fuck_."

Aneril sighed, and held her in place when she tried again. Carefully, she slid both arms under Vareysa's back and legs, and lifted the Dunmer off the ground with ease. She ignored her companion's weak but mischievous smile, setting Vareysa on her bed gently. Pulling the covers up to the elf's chest, Aneril asked, "Dark Brotherhood?"

Red irises peered up at her in mirth. "Really? Gonna interrogate me while I'm weak?"

"Best time to do so." Aneril pulled a stool over and sat beside the bed, making it obvious that she wasn't going anywhere. "So, are you?"

Vareysa huffed. "No."

"Independent."

"…Only after we crossed paths."

Aneril cocked her head. "What's that mean?"

No answer.

"Alright…" Aneril passed a sharp eye over her companion's face, then asked, "Are you from Morrowind?"

A faint smile. "Yes."

"Then…Morag Tong."

"Not all assassins from Morrowind are Morag Tong," Vareysa informed her placidly. "But yes."

"What are you doing so far from home?"

"Business."

"Litan."

"Yes."

"And you said you became independent  _after_  we crossed paths," Aneril continued, even as Vareysa's eyes fluttered shut. Whether out of exasperation or exhaustion, she couldn't tell, but there were no protests yet. "I didn't realise one could leave the Morag Tong."

"Not exactly."

"Why are you 'independent' now?"

"Issues." Vareysa's usual chattiness had disappeared along with her energy, it seemed.

"Is that why you were stabbed?"

The Dunmer chuckled, glancing back at her. "By them? No. It was an injured party."

Aneril nodded slowly, even though none of her questions had been answered in full. "Will this be a problem in the future?"

"Ah. Don't worry, pretty face." Vareysa smirked, gesturing at her bandaged wound. "This was merely a…courtesy. To let me know they're pissed off."

"Petty."

"Tell me about it. Now," she sighed, shifting under the covers. "As much as I love chatting with you, I'm tired and would like some sleep. Good night."

With that, Vareysa shut her eyes again. Aneril suspected 'tiredness' wasn't the entire reason why she wanted to rest, but the Dunmer's pale complexion stopped her from pushing any further. Instead, she stood from her seat, and went to tidy up Vareysa's backpack, replacing her belongings and setting it by the side of her bed. Then Aneril picked up the bloody barbed dagger, which had fallen onto the scarf that Vareysa had used as a gag.

Her eye twitched as she held it up to the candlelight, examining the large bloodstains on soft fabric. The scarf held some sentimental value for Vareysa, who would often wrap it around her neck when she went to sleep, then fold it neatly for safekeeping when she woke the next morning.

She wouldn't like what her 'business' had done to her prized possession.

* * *

As expected, Vareysa whined the instant her eyes landed on the bloodstained scarf the next morning, tremendously upset by its dirtied state. Aneril had tried soaking it overnight, but the dark splotches still stood out visibly against soft periwinkle blue. So she had to drag the pouting Dunmer to a washerwoman, who was more than glad to have it done by the end of the day, what with the premium Vareysa had paid her for quicker service. Aneril bit her tongue during the exchange, but Vareysa seemed to have no trouble with it, and was happy enough when she reclaimed the clean scarf, rubbing it briefly against her cheek with a smile on her face.

Minor emergency settled, Aneril decided to stay in town for a few days longer, until Vareysa's wound had healed. But her plans were thrown for a loop when she was approached for help by a fellow Eye, who needed her to tackle a bandit camp far to the east of Firsthold, acting as a distraction while her comrade infiltrated the bandits' main camp. Aneril had agreed, thinking to leave Vareysa in the city while she took care of business. But her companion refused to be left behind, insisting that she was well enough to fight again…and that she might kill someone in her boredom should she stay.

Resisting the urge to strangle the woman for the umpteenth time, Aneril agreed despite her misgivings. And as they traveled north, she took care to rest more often, making sure that Vareysa's wound hadn't opened up during their trek. Vareysa shot her bemused glances whenever she called for a stop, but never objected to resting her feet, and Aneril noted how she would fidget with her bandages, as if they were bothering her. She deflected questions about her well-being, putting up a confident mask in response to Aneril's tentative displays of concern, and the Altmer soon left the issue to rest. The assassin would know her own limits, after all.

When they finally reached the bandit camp in the woods, Vareysa volunteered to scout quickly about the camp, and returned with a detailed report on their patrol sizes and locations. With that, they split up as usual – Vareysa blending into the shadows beneath the trees, circling to flank their foes and pick away at their numbers quietly, while Aneril attracted the entire camp's focus by charging through the front.

The assault went smoothly; Aneril sent out larger torrents of magic to draw the bandits' attention each time Vareysa dropped out of the shadows, and she was able to cut down a respectable number of the thugs before the assassin's presence became known. By then, the battle was already over. Aneril drove her sword through a bandit crawling weakly across the ground, then looked up at Vareysa, who had sheathed her daggers and stood with shoulders hunched, leaning against a stack of crates for support.

"You alright?" Aneril asked, sheathing her own sword.

"Yeah." Vareysa waved her away, plucking a red restorative potion from her belt pouch. "Go search the camp. I'll be with you shortly."

Aneril watched her drink down the potion, then drop the empty vial and sit on the edge of a crate, pressing one hand to her still-healing stab wound. Judging it prudent to finish their business here quickly, Aneril started to search the camp, looking for valuables and equipment that they could repurpose or sell for gold, and scavenging potions for future use. It was routine, and Aneril went about the task diligently, until she stopped at a particularly large tent.

Empty crates lined the left, and similarly empty cages lined the right. But at the back of the tent was a single occupied cage, housing a white senche-tiger cub. Aneril frowned as she approached the cage, kneeling down to look at the cub, which seemed to be on edge. It paced about its cage skittishly, peering up at Aneril with a cautious look in its eye. Remembering the key she had picked up from a bandit's pocket, she pulled it out and took another step towards the cage, noting how the cub backpedaled, as if trying to put more distance between them.

Aneril unlocked the door as gently as possible, not wanting to startle the cub, which was still crouched in the far corner of the cage, with its baby fangs bared.

"Aneril? What's holding you up?" She heard Vareysa's voice as her companion entered the tent, and came to stand behind her. "Oh, tiger. One of those white ones, too. What's it doing so far away from Elsweyr? Or Valenwood?"

"Smuggled, maybe."

"Yeah. It looks frightened." Vareysa hummed, then kneeled down beside Aneril. She poked a hand into the sack she was holding, then pulled out a paper package, tugging at the tied string to reveal a small stack of meat. "Here, try luring it out."

"You raided the pantry?" Aneril said, humour tinging her tone as she took a small cut of meat.

"A girl's gotta eat."

Aneril laid the red meat down by the cage's doors, then shuffled back a little, giving the tiger enough space for it to dare approach the offering. They waited a few long seconds, before the cub finally took careful steps towards the door, its deep blue eyes fixed on the alluring meal before it. Then, with one last glance at the women, it pounced and tore into its food hungrily, chomping down with what seemed like the utmost bliss on its face.

The meat disappeared in a few quick beats of Aneril's heart, but she was more than happy to lay down a second, bigger piece on the ground, just a little closer to her. The cub didn't seem to mind their proximity though, and hopped forward to indulge in its second serving, its little claws digging into the meat as it wolfed down its meal. When the second was done, it looked back up at them expectantly, and Vareysa laid the last piece down in front of it, the cub leaping on top of the meat when she had barely taken her hand away.

Aneril snickered at the sight and waited for the cub to be done eating, before stretching a hand forward to pet its head gently. It flinched from her touch, ears twitching as it stared up at her, then her hand. Aneril held still for a moment, then lowered her hand slowly, resting it on top of the cub's head with only the lightest pressure – a silent promise not to harm. When it didn't move away, she started stroking down its short white fur, getting a low purr in return.

"Think it likes you," Vareysa said, as the cub padded forward and mewled up at Aneril, clambering into her lap.

"Mm." Aneril cocked her head thoughtfully as she lifted it in her arms, pulling her head back when the cub tried to lick her face, and sated it with a scratch between its ears. It chuffed contentedly, curling up closer to her. "We're not really in a position to keep pets though…"

Vareysa let out a laugh. "You didn't just consider keeping a  _tiger_  as your pet, did you?"

" _No_ ," Aneril growled, feeling her cheeks grow warm as she hugged the tiger closer to her. "We'll…try to drop it off in the city. Maybe there'll be someone willing to take it in…"

"You sound reluctant already," Vareysa teased.

Aneril glared at her, though it did little to deter the grin from growing on her companion's lips.

* * *

Their trek to Skywatch was uneventful, still with the constant breaks for Vareysa to rest, and with their new companion gamboling beside them as they walked, slinking between their legs with happy chuffs. They made it back to Skywatch in good time – Vareysa's wound was still healing much too slowly, and the cub was draining their bare rations too quickly. After leaving Vareysa at the inn, Aneril carried the cub over to the docks, trying to find someone sailing to either Valenwood or Elsweyr, who was willing to take the tiger along with them.

But she had no luck despite spending much of her daylight searching for a kind soul to bring the cub home. The only one who expressed interest in the cub was a merchant, who had a calculative gleam in his eye that sparked Aneril's distrust, and she quickly made her excuses to leave. When she returned to the inn room at sunset with the cub still in her arms, Vareysa regarded her with no small amount of amusement, and mentioned that Aneril  _might_  have gotten attached to the little thing. Aneril had denied it then, sending yet another glare in the Dunmer's direction, and it didn't help that she fell asleep with the cub curled up in bed next to her.

Since they weren't able to drop the tiger off at Skywatch, they decided to travel back to Vulkhel Guard, hoping to try their luck at the docks there. And in the meantime, Aneril grew a little worried that the cub might be nurturing some form of attachment to them – not to mention hers to the little thing, but she would rather swallow an acid-coated barbed dagger before admitting that to Vareysa.

Aneril watched as the tiger poked around at the campfire, then walked over to where Vareysa lay in her bedroll. She scratched at the tiger's ears, gazing up at the starlit sky with a languid smile, before she jerked at the feel of paws prodding at her scarf.

"Hey, hey!" Vareysa sat up, adjusting the scarf about her shoulders. "No touching!"

The cub mewled and climbed into her lap, but its attempt to touch the scarf was foiled when Vareysa lifted it in her hands, and held it at arms' length.

"No touching my scarf, cubby. Not with those sharp claws." She shook it playfully between her hands and smiled at its throaty growl, then set it on the ground, sending the cat back to Aneril with a pat on its butt.

"What's with your scarf, anyway?" Aneril asked, picking up the cub when it approached her. "It's like you love it more than your daggers."

"That's because I  _do_." She wrapped the scarf around her neck, running her fingertips down the blue fabric. "It's my mother's. She gave it to me before I left home."

"Really," Aneril replied drily. "You don't seem like a sentimental type. Especially for family."

"What, just because  _you_  think I'm a cold-blooded killer, doesn't mean I don't have any loved ones."

"No, it doesn't." Aneril gazed at her curiously. "To be honest, I took you to be…one without family."

Vareysa laughed, quiet and smooth, as she lay back down in her bedroll. "Well, I used to be. I was an orphan, but then I met my mom." She shot Aneril a gentle smile. "She caught me trying to steal a sword from her smithy. Was going to turn me in, but I cried, and she had a change of heart."

"Then…she just took you in?"

"Nah. She just fed me at first, but then I kept staying around, so she asked if I wanted to live with her. Never said 'yes' faster in my entire life." Vareysa let out an airy sigh. "Ah, children. So quick to throw their lots in with people."

Aneril rolled her eyes when Vareysa shot her a pointed look. "They tend to follow whoever gives them food too." She raised the cub she cradled in her arms, and Vareysa breathed another chuckle at the silent jab.

"You know, I kinda miss her. Maybe I should head back to see her soon."

"That'd be for the best," Aneril drawled, setting the cub down.

"Aw, so quick to throw me away?"

"I'd dump you into the ocean without a second glance."

"Well, now. Who's the cold-hearted one, hm?"

"Still you…murderer." Aneril snorted softly to herself when Vareysa laughed. Gently stroking the cub, which had curled up beside her with its tail flopping about lazily, Aneril settled in and took first watch for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ESO had a flash 50% discount on the white senche-tiger pet and my weak, big cat loving ass hit the buy button before I knew it.
> 
> So Aneril gets a senche too. Vareysa will have her own animal companion as well...in future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight timeskip from the previous chapter - mainly skipping over the mission to save Abnur Tharn from Mannimarco's grip.

Aneril jerked awake with a strangled gasp, throat working painfully as she tried to catch her breath. Her head swam in a post-dream fog, unable to comprehend even the ceiling of her room, as she stared up through the darkness of night. She clutched at her chest, the fabric of her shirt crumpling under her tight, trembling grip. The phantom impact of the dagger plunging through her heart was slowly fading, and Aneril became aware of the near painful pounding in her chest – disconcerting, but reassuring at the same time.

She was alive. Still alive.

"You alright?"

She started at the voice, and turned her head to find Vareysa sitting by the table, under the dim glow of two lit candles…eating a piece of cake?  _So late into the night?_

That revelation somehow rubbed her the wrong way, but she shook off the irritation before it could take root, and rolled over to face the wall, unconsciously curling up tighter beneath the covers. Vareysa's unintentional prodding had helped, though – provided her something solid to focus on, a reminder of where she was, and where she was  _not_.

They were still in Vulkhel Guard, lodged in a rented room at the Mara's Kiss Public House, where Aneril would leave her two companions behind while she tended to some…private business. This time, she had just returned from yet another venture into Coldharbour, the domain of Molag Bal, and the one place she dearly wished  _never_  to set foot in again.

Her first time in Coldharbour, she had woken up cold and alone, a prisoner with her soul ripped away by Mannimarco, the King of Worms. It was with the help of the Prophet and Lyris Titanborn that she'd managed to escape that desolate plane of Oblivion, but they'd had to leave Lyris behind in exchange for their freedom.

The second time, she had charged into Coldharbour willingly at the Prophet's behest, to save the very one who had sacrificed her own freedom for theirs. Aneril cast off that nauseating fear to share her strength with Lyris, giving heart to the indomitable Nord warrior as they fought their way through the prison, and vanquished the manifestation of Lyris's terror that had kept her shackled to Molag Bal's realm.

The third time –  _this_  time – they had gone to rescue Abnur Tharn, who sought asylum from the manipulations of Mannimarco. With Lyris at her side, Aneril tasted little of the previous fear she had carried, though she felt uneasy about their mission to save a man who served the enemy. Nonetheless, they faced down the horrors in their path, and emerged victorious without severe wounds on their being. At least, not physically.

Being in Coldharbour, facing the twisted abominations in dark hallways, walking along the dank stone floors, breathing in the lifeless, frigid air… It never failed to dredge up that memory of being chained to the bloodied altar, watching helplessly as Mannimarco held a black soul gem over her, then drove that dagger into–

"Keep tossing about like that, and I'm gonna get seasick."

Aneril tried and failed to bite back a frustrated growl, and she opened her eyes again to find Vareysa standing by her bed. The Dunmer regarded her with a slight tilt of the head, then tapped a finger on the cup she held.

"Come on. You won't get any sleep at the rate you're going."

Aneril frowned, glaring up at Vareysa…until she realised the elf was right. Her mind was too sharp, too agitated to fall right back to sleep. So she sat up with a sigh, and accepted the cup of tea wordlessly, breathing in the distinct fragrance of jasmine. She took a small sip, the drop of warmth diffusing through her body, loosening her tense muscles. Aneril smiled faintly when the tiger cub leapt onto the bed, and laid its head in her lap, tail curled over its body as it settled back to sleep.

"Nightmare?"

She grunted at Vareysa's question, taking a longer draught of tea.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Is it the same one you've had all those other times?" Vareysa smiled when Aneril's gaze cut towards her. "So it is. You always grab at your boobs like someone's trying to steal them."

Aneril made the unfortunate decision to drink more tea right then, because she snorted, and the beverage went down the wrong pipe, leaving her coughing and hacking for air. The cub was roused by her spasms, and prodded its muzzle at her jaw in worry, until her coughing fit had subsided.

"Fuck you," Aneril uttered, breathing through her nose as she scratched at the cub's ears, and tried to ignore her companion's quiet laugh.

"So…is it just me, or do you always have these nightmares after your jaunts outside Vulkhel Guard?"

"Just you."

"Sure. And I assume you just 'fell over', right? That's why you need all those bandages? For the…nasty little bruises."

"None of your business," Aneril said curtly, restraining the urge to cover said bandages on her arms with the blanket.

"Of course it isn't."

Aneril narrowed her eyes at Vareysa's tone – one that she'd heard many times before. "Trust me, you  _don't_  want it to be your business."

A smile was Vareysa's only reply.

* * *

"I swear," Lyris growled, clenching her fists in frustration. "I  _will_  strangle him with my own two hands, one day soon."

"Not too soon," Aneril replied with a bemused smile. "We still need Tharn's help."

"Soon  _after_  that, then." A grin parts Lyris's lips as she claps Aneril on the shoulder, the two walking out of their safe haven – the Harborage – together, leaving Tharn and Varen to converse in private.

Aneril was just checking on her acquaintances –  _friends?_  – in their hidden cave, located by a quiet coast near Vulkhel Guard's docks. She made supply runs there as often as she could, since a blind man and a half-giant warrior could hardly walk into town without attracting some attention – and revealing their location to Mannimarco ahead of time. And now, after Tharn had joined the motley group, Aneril stopped by just to ensure that Lyris hadn't introduced her fist to Tharn's face…again.

Though Varen had assured Aneril that she needn't visit so often, now that Tharn was here, Lyris seemed grateful for her appearances, and often used Aneril as an excuse to spend some time away from Tharn. Not that Aneril minded – the two warriors had quickly found a certain kinship with each other, and she was happy enough sparring with Lyris, or listening to the Nord vent her frustrations and bitterness over their current situation.

On this night, they'd decided to hunt for some fresh meat in the wilderness, instead of losing more precious gold to the local butcher. They were discussing specific hunting spots as they walked out of the cave entrance, when a blur of white darted across the coastal sands, and bounded right into Aneril's legs. She'd frozen with one hand on her sword hilt, when she realised it was just the tiger cub, gazing up at her with no small amount of excitement in its eyes.

"Cub?" Aneril said in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I think it missed you a lot."

Aneril and Lyris looked up in surprise, to find Vareysa lounging on the rocks above the cave mouth. The Dunmer smiled, then leapt off from her perch, landing effortlessly on both feet before them. As she straightened herself, Lyris held an arm before Aneril, one hand already gripping the hilt of the greatsword strapped to her back.

"Who are you?" Lyris asked, though her question might as well have gone unheard.

"Oh, Tribunal preserve me." Vareysa raked her eyes slowly over the well-built, statuesque warrior, who stood half a head taller than Aneril – who was already quite tall by Altmer standards. "Another one. You didn't tell me you had a…Nord twin."

Aneril rolled her eyes when Vareysa winked at her, and she pulled down Lyris's arm, which was still held protectively before her. "Just  _what_  are you doing here? I told you to stay out of my business."

"Curiosity killed the cat, as they say," Vareysa drawled, looking Lyris over again. "Oh, but let me tell you, satisfaction did more than just bring her back."

" _Gods above_ ," Aneril groaned under her breath, as Lyris frowned at her.

"Aneril, who is she?"

"She's my…traveling companion."

"Ah." Lyris peered closer at Vareysa, with more curiosity this time. "You never mentioned her."

"You never mentioned  _me?_ " Vareysa gasped in mock hurt. "After all that we've been through together?"

Before Aneril could give a biting rejoinder, Lyris asked, "Can she be trusted?"

"Debatable," Aneril said.

"No argument here."

Lyris wore a lop-sided smile at Vareysa's flippant affirmation. "Those daggers," she said, nodding at the weapons on Vareysa's belt. "Can you use them well?"

"Like a master artist wields a paintbrush, yes. I believe Aneril can attest to my skill."

"She's effective with them," Aneril said when Lyris's gaze turned to her. "And…she's helped a great deal in my missions for the Queen as well." She had to stifle a long-suffering sigh, when Vareysa beamed at her admission. "But why do you want to know?"

Lyris crossed her arms, regarding Vareysa thoughtfully. "Since she's helped you so, I assume she can be trusted to some degree. I'm thinking she might be able to help us, as well."

"What!" Aneril took a step forward so she and Lyris were face-to-face. "You're not thinking of bringing her into this. It's… She is not involved in this."

"My friend," Lyris sighed. "In this, no one is uninvolved. The Planemeld, the Dark Anchors, the Daedra… Molag Bal sets his eyes on  _all_  who lives on Nirn. It's just a matter of who is willing to stand and  _fight_  against this darkness…" She huffed in laughter as her voice trailed off towards the end. "I'm starting to sound like Varen."

Lyris shook her head, then looked back at Vareysa. "I shall spare you the lengthy speeches. Instead, I would ask for your help. If you've been working with Aneril, then you already know the threat that Tamriel faces. Will you aid us?"

Aneril turned around, catching Vareysa's quiet gaze. She waited for the longest moment, holding Vareysa's placid stare, until a smile curved the Dunmer's lips.

"I don't fully understand what's going on here, I'm afraid."

"Then we will explain." Lyris exchanged a glance with Aneril, then gestured at the cave. "Shall we?"

* * *

To her credit, Vareysa's composure never cracked throughout the impossible tale. She listened calmly as the blind prophet revealed himself to be the fallen Emperor of Cyrodiil, Varen Aquilarios, and told of how Mannimarco had corrupted the Amulet of Kings, then tricked him into using it in a modified coronation ritual – thus sundering the veil between Nirn and Oblivion, and setting the Planemeld in motion. He recounted his and Aneril's initial escape from Coldharbour, Aneril's rescue of Lyris soon after, and how they helped Tharn escape Mannimarco's grip.

All were exploits in the dread realm of Molag Bal, and Varen made it very clear that they would return to Coldharbour again – first to rescue their last comrade, Sai Sahan, then on future missions to undermine the Daedric Prince's schemes. He asked if Vareysa was willing to risk her own life, to face whatever dangers and horrors it held in store.

She turned her gaze towards Aneril's stoic countenance and, after a moment's thought, said with a smirk, "Why not?"

Aneril breathed yet another sigh at the thought, as she trekked back to the city with the sleepy tiger cub in her arms, and Vareysa walking quietly at her side. But of course, her companion wouldn't be quiet for  _too_  long.

"So, were you never going to tell me about this?" Vareysa asked. "That you're trying to stop this whole Planemeld thing? Not even the fact that you don't have your own  _soul?_ "

"Like I said," Aneril uttered quietly, as they climbed the wooden steps up to the empty docks. "It's none of your business."

"A Daedric Prince is trying to bring the whole of Nirn into Oblivion and steal all our souls, and you really think it's none of my business? I like  _having_  my soul, you know. Come to think of it, is that why you're so prickly all the time–?"

Aneril halted in her tracks, looking coolly back at the Dunmer. "Have you ever stepped foot into Coldharbour?"

Vareysa cocked her head. "No."

" _No one_  should have the misfortune to experience it. To feel the coldness, the desolation, the hopelessness. I wouldn't wish it on  _anyone_ , not even you."

"Aw, I knew you cared."

"And here you are, agreeing to this–, this  _suicide_  mission like you're accepting an invitation to dinner–"

"Aneril," Vareysa said, tone so cold and  _hard_ , it distracted Aneril from her would-be rant. "I have a mother. She's the only family I have. And I would charge into Coldharbour every single  _fucking_  day, just so she wouldn't have to see that hellhole you hate so much. So yes, I'm accepting this invitation to dinner, and I'm cleaning off  _every_  damned plate I see!"

Aneril took in a sharp breath, but what passed her lips next wasn't an argument. She barked out a laugh, surprising even herself when she couldn't stop. Aneril hugged the cub closer to her chest when it was woken by her sudden outburst, and it glanced over at Vareysa when she joined in as well.

"You're…horrible," Aneril gasped as she began to calm down.

"Hey." Vareysa shrugged with an unapologetic smile. "It's part of my charm."

* * *

Since that night, they hadn't been called back to the Harborage by Varen, as Tharn needed more time to uncover Sai Sahan's location within Coldharbour. But that worked out well for Aneril, because events within the Dominion had escalated quickly, and much of her time was spent working tirelessly in the Queen's service.

Under Razum-dar's instruction, Aneril had infiltrated the Veiled Heritance's ranks, and learnt that the 'Veiled Queen' who plotted Queen Ayrenn's downfall, was none other than Prince Naemon's wife – High Kinlady Estre. Aneril had hurried back to inform the Queen of Estre's identity, only to have the Kinlady disappear from under their noses. And so started their chase after the Veiled Queen.

Ayrenn sent Aneril and Vareysa ahead to investigate Dawnbreak, and the Queen's suspicion that Estre had fled there was confirmed, when they found the town being overrun by daedra. Leaving the tiger cub behind with a civilian outside the town, they aided the First Auridon Marines in pushing back their foes and rescuing the citizens trapped within. They tracked the source of the daedra to an abandoned mine outside of town, shut down the infernal portal, and learnt of Estre's true target: Firsthold.

Borrowing two horses from the Marines, they made quick time towards the major city in the north, only to find out they were too late – Firsthold was already under attack. Estre had erected a magical barrier around the castle and her Oblivion portals, protecting herself and the gates which countless daedra marched through.

Again, they left the tiger cub behind – with an injured Khajiit marine, this time – and set about stopping Estre's madness. With help from a Guild mage, they were able to destroy the wards holding up Estre's barrier, then proceeded to shatter the sigil stones within each Oblivion portal, shutting them for good.

With the Daedric threat ended, they entered Castle Firsthold with Razum-dar and a few Marines, and found one last Oblivion portal standing in Estre's place. They plunged headfirst through the portal and entered a volcanic landscape, standing on an island surrounded by lava. The sweltering heat made Aneril sweat profusely in her armour, which had felt progressively heavier through their battle in Firsthold. Despite feeling a touch lighter in the head, she nodded when Vareysa laid a hand on her pauldron, and they marched forth to face Estre herself.

The Kinlady fought ferociously for her very life, and she summoned a handful of flame atronachs to her aid. It made the battle trickier, as they had to split their attention between Estre and the fiery daedra, and the distraction proved to be Vareysa's downfall – or it would've been, if not for Aneril's intervention.

Vareysa had been occupied with an atronach herself, fending off the swipes of rocky hands with her daggers, when Estre sent a cutting gust of magic in her direction. Aneril had lunged for Vareysa then, knocking the assassin out of the spell's path. But she suffered the brunt of the magic, which rent right through her steel armour and left deep gashes running down her sword arm. The pain was blinding, and Aneril fell to her knees as her sword dropped from her fingers. But before Estre could finish Aneril off, Vareysa vanquished the atronach and pounced on Estre, taking the Kinlady by surprise as Vareysa drove a dagger deep into her heart.

Vareysa kicked the staff from Estre's hand, when she tried to fight back even in the throes of death. They watched as she collapsed to the ground, her dream dying along with the spark of life in her eyes. After retrieving her dagger, Vareysa hurried back to Aneril's side, picking her sword from the ground and helping her up, as Razum-dar destroyed the sigil stone.

In the blink of an eye, the hellish landscape folded in on itself, and they stood in the great hall of Castle Firsthold once again, though riddled with more wounds than before. Aneril was leaning heavily on Vareysa, as she tried to heal the deep wounds on her arm, and they trudged towards the exit after Razum-dar urged them to find a healer.

When they emerged from the castle, however, they were given pause when they found Queen Ayrenn waiting just before the castle doors. The Queen's eyes widened at Aneril's bleeding arm, and she hastened forward, waving away Aneril's attempted salute. She clasped the soldier's elbow carefully in one hand, and wove a powerful healing spell that twined around Aneril's arm, golden light washing over the gashes that started to close under her attention.

"My friend," Ayrenn said. "It is good to see you still stand, even under these circumstances. If you are here, then I assume…"

"Kinlady Estre is dead, Your Majesty," Aneril breathed.

"It's a sad day when good news is delivered in such grim words," Ayrenn sighed quietly, lifting her gaze to Aneril and Vareysa. "But I thank you for all the hard work you have done. You truly are a valuable asset to the Dominion."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Aneril's voice was weak, and Ayrenn frowned in concern, but her attention is quickly snatched away by the arrival of her brother. At the Queen's urging, Vareysa led Aneril away to find a healer who could finish mending her wounds.

Luckily, a mage found and guided them towards the Mages Guild hall, where the healers were hard at work patching up soldiers and unfortunate citizens wounded in the conflict. Vareysa walked Aneril over to an empty bedroll in the corner and set her down. They didn't have to wait long before a mage bustled over to them, working his magic on Aneril's wounds first, then Vareysa's minor scrapes. Noting their exhausted state, he instructed them to rest, and was given no protest. The two women slumped against the wall behind them, closing their eyes gratefully.

Though she wasn't bleeding anymore, Aneril's head still felt light, and the world sometimes spun around her. But she was alive… Still alive.

"Hey. Thanks for taking the hit back there."

"Mm."

"Is Coldharbour anything like this?" Vareysa asked.

Aneril snorted. "No. I told you, Coldharbour's… _cold_. Quiet. Depressing. This was hot. Angry. And hot."

"You said 'hot' twice."

"Because it was really  _fucking_  hot," Aneril deadpanned, then joined in Vareysa's chuckle.

She took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly – only to have the rest of her breath knocked clean from her lungs when something barreled right into her chest. Even before she turned her gaze upon the frantic ball of white fur rubbing up against her, Aneril already recognised the cub from its worried mewls and chuffs. She smiled and hugged the cub tight, pressing a kiss to the top of its head, before it slinked over to Vareysa, where it was given the same greeting.

"The little one's really attached to you, isn't it?"

Aneril looked over at the Khajiit marine who came to crouch by her. "Ah, yes. Thanks for taking care of it."

"No problem! This one was more than happy to help," the Khajiit said with a smile. He watched the cub rub its head against Vareysa's face, then leaned in and asked, "Pardon this one's curiosity, but where did you get the cub?"

"We found it in a cage at a bandit's camp. We freed it, but we don't know what to do with it… Couldn't find anyone willing to take it in."

"Ah, so that's it. This one thought the cub was a little young to be without its mother. Turns out it was stolen. Hm." The Khajiit tilted his head thoughtfully. "Do you plan to keep it, or are you still looking for a family for the cub?"

"We're keeping it around for now. But I think if we find a suitable home for it, we'll have to give it away. We can't really let it tag along for dangerous–" Aneril was cut off when the cub clambered back into her lap, and began frantically pawing at her shoulders, fixing her with a pleading gaze. The cub mewled pitifully, then threw its front paws around her neck, where Aneril could feel the harmless dig of its claws into her skin.

"Looks like it  _doesn't_ want to be given away," the Khajiit mused, scratching behind the cub's ears.

"Can it understand what we're saying?" Vareysa leaned over to join the conversation. "It seems really intelligent for just a senche-tiger. Are you sure it's not one of your senche-rahts?"

"Of course this one is sure," the Khajiit laughed. "It is difficult to tell sometimes, because there are many senche-tigers like this little one, who display intelligence very close to ours. But rest assured,  _this_  is one of our wild cousins." He patted the cub fondly. "And a very smart boy, at that."

"So if he doesn't want to leave, then…" Aneril exchanged a glance with Vareysa. "It might make things complicated."

"Because you'll be fighting a lot, eh?" He smiled when the two elves nodded. "Well, this cub might be small now, but with proper training, it can be a fearsome partner when it grows up. You just need to find someone who can teach it…" He tapped a finger at his lip. "How about this? This one knows a few people at the Khajiit trading posts in Valenwood. He can direct you to some friends, who can teach this cub to be a true tiger."

Aneril raised a brow and glanced down at the cub, who was now nestled snugly against her chest. She ran a hand down its back, getting a contented purr in return. It fixed her with a loving blue gaze, and the deal was sealed.

"Sure. Tell me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm (trying) to build a screenshot/visuals page for these two, check it out [here](http://pentacass.tumblr.com/tagged/ILS-faces)!
> 
> Massive exposition blorb here, because this fic started out in a direction totally different from what I'm writing now. (Neither of them were to be the Vestige.) So I quickened the plot in Auridon to catch things up. Will slow down from here...mostly.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah, there you are."

Aneril's back snapped straight, while Vareysa casually turned her gaze to watch the Queen stride down the hallway, towards where they stood waiting outside her temporary office in Castle Firsthold. They had been summoned here by Queen Ayrenn for reasons unknown, but given that they had faced down Kinlady Estre just the day before, Aneril guessed that the Queen might want a report on the battle…

Ayrenn smiled at them, her bright eyes carrying none of the gravity from the previous day.

… _Or she might not_.

The Queen beckoned, and they followed her through the door that an attendant had hastened to open, then shut with nary a sound behind their backs.

"I do apologise for making you wait, but Firsthold is in a complete mess, as you well know," Ayrenn sighed, reaching a hand up as if to touch her hair, and frowned when her fingers bumped into the crown instead. She came to a stop beside her desk, frown deepening for a moment before looking back at the two women standing before her. "Ah, yes. Aneril."

"Your Majesty."

"At ease, soldier," Ayrenn replied airily to the knee-jerk response, taking a seat behind the desk. "I have new orders for you. But before we start on that, I've a few questions I would like answered." She opened a desk drawer, rifling through its contents, and withdrew a sheaf of papers bound together by a string in the corner. Ayrenn skimmed through its contents quietly, then looked up at Aneril. "You have rendered exceptional service here in Auridon, and back in Khenarthi's Roost with Razum-dar. After I inducted you into the Eyes, Raz has assembled a dossier on you – which I have read, and found…interesting."

She set the dossier on the table, and leaned back in her seat. "It seems you were a captain of the Dominion, before your contingent went missing during a mission in Cyrodiil?"

Aneril grew cold. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"According to the records, you were to give aid to our soldiers stationed at a town near Bravil. But there was no further news after you were dispatched. What we found a month later, was the ruins of a ravaged town, littered with the bodies of Daedra and mortals alike. The only evidence of your contingent's presence, were the six bodies identified by their dog tags."

"That's all?" Aneril whispered, feeling the ground open up beneath her feet.

Ayrenn tilted her head slightly, sharp gaze taking in Aneril's stricken expression. "You didn't know."

"No. I had no way to check, not after…" Her voice wavered, then died away.

The Queen waited, but when Aneril didn't try to speak again, she continued, "Since that time, your record is a blank – you were presumed dead. But here you are, standing before me, alive and well. At a briefest glance, one would piece this information together and say that you managed to flee the destruction – or worse, deserted to escape certain death. But your recent deeds have proven a character indisposed to such actions, and I would rather hear an explanation from you, before jumping to conclusions."

"Your Majesty." Aneril steeled herself, then plunged into her tale. "We  _were_  answering a request for reinforcements, but we received word from the garrison again while we were on the road. They were under siege by members of the Worm Cult, so we doubled our pace towards town…only to find it already half-destroyed." She shifted on her feet, hands clutching tighter behind her back. "Upon our arrival, it became obvious that we were being lured into a trap. The cultists performed a ritual just as we began to fight back, and those of us who weren't dead were ripped from this world, and thrust into Coldharbour."

"Ah, yes. How the soul shriven come about," Ayrenn mused. "But you look well enough to me."

"I don't know how, but I survived with…my mind intact. I managed to escape, and ended up in Khenarthi's Roost where I first met Razum-dar." Aneril sighed heavily. "Your Majesty, I know this is hard to believe. But I  _swear_  to you, I am telling the truth."

"Relax, Aneril," Ayrenn laughed, waving a hand at her. "I do believe you. In times like these, tales such as yours are only becoming more commonplace." She stood, and rounded the table so she was facing Aneril directly. "Now, given your service record and history, and I am inclined to restore you to your former position, if you wish. Or, judging from the battles we've shared together, I know that you wield magic and blade well enough to join my Wings. Battlereeve Sielaire is looking for more capable soldiers to join her ranks, and I would be more than happy to assign you there."

"I…respectfully decline, Your Majesty." Aneril bowed her head, and explained simply, "I much prefer my role as an Eye."

"Of course. And I'm sure Raz will be pleased with your decision." Ayrenn smiled, then turned around to pick up the sheathed sword lying on her table, along with two small notes. She held the sword out to Aneril in both hands. "A gift, my friend – for your admirable service in Auridon. And this–" Ayrenn continued, handing a note to her. "–is a requisitions form that entitles you to anything you need from the armoury. I would suggest replacing…everything you have." She passed a bemused eye over Aneril's armour, thoroughly scratched and burnt, and missing its pauldrons.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Aneril said calmly, though she could feel her cheeks flush at the Queen's gentle tease.

"And now, the mystery that follows my distinguished agent." Ayrenn turned her attention to Vareysa, who had the courtesy to cover her look of boredom with a polite smile. "Vareysa – despite my agents' best efforts, your name has been the only thing they've managed to uncover about you. That either speaks to their capability, or the care you've taken to cover your tracks."

"I would say neither, Your Majesty," Vareysa said nonchalantly. "The only way you'll find out about me is if you send agents to Morrowind, and I imagine it's not worth risking your agents' lives just to dig into my unimportant history. Besides…" Her smile widened. "I'm glad that your people haven't stuck their noses where it doesn't belong…or could get cut off."

Aneril's eye twitched at her words, but Ayrenn let out a short laugh instead.

"I see. Well, be that as it may, I still wish to offer my thanks for your aid." Ayrenn handed her the second note. "This entitles you access to the Dominion's armoury as well. And I would suggest the both of you equip yourselves as best you can." She turned her gaze back to Aneril. "The king of the Wood Elves informs me that there's some manner of discontent in Elden Root, our capital city in Valenwood. I would like you to meet with the King, and work to end the discord. Once local matters are in hand, I'll meet you in Elden Root."

Aneril nodded. "Understood."

"I suggest that you head to Skywatch and look for Captain Jimila. I've heard she's a reliable captain with a fast ship. She can bring you to the port of Haven, just south of Elden Root. If she gives you trouble, tell her I sent you."

* * *

They went to the armoury that very day, where Vareysa scoffed at the array of Dominion-stamped armour, but picked up a new pair of daggers to replace hers, which had been half-melted by flame atronachs. She shot a few jibes at Aneril, who wore a sharp new suit of steel armour, but her prodding wasn't as incessant as before, mindful to give her companion some space. Aneril had fallen into a silent pall since their meeting with the Queen, her shoulders heavy from the weight of an answer that she…realised she'd been avoiding for quite some time.

Part of her had always suspected that her contingent didn't survive – she'd spotted too many familiar faces among the shackled prisoners to even hope that more than a handful had escaped with their lives. Perhaps some did, but she didn't want to entertain that notion anymore. As far as she was concerned, most of her soldiers were soulless slaves in Coldharbour now, and the rest were left as nothing more than corpses on Nirn – the lucky ones, as it were.

Aneril  _'brooded quite zealously'_  – as Vareysa put it – for their entire journey to Skywatch, but she took a deep breath upon reaching the city's gates, and forced the past to the back of her mind…until such time they would haunt her again.

They'd arrived in the evening, and found Captain Jimila on the main deck of her ship. The Khajiiti captain greeted Aneril warmly – she'd helped to rescue the captain's crew from the Maormer, back in Khenarthi's Roost. Thus Jimila didn't give them any 'trouble' that the Queen had worried about, and gave the pair a private cabin on the ship. Then, she extended an invitation for a round of drinks before the long voyage – which Aneril declined, but Vareysa took on eagerly.

So Aneril spent the night in the cabin alone with the tiger cub, grateful that she'd gotten some measure of privacy to herself. But when she woke the next morning, she found Vareysa's bed still empty. Aneril felt a pinch of concern – just a  _pinch_  – but decided to wait for a while before starting a search. After all, a Morag Tong assassin should be more than capable of taking care of herself.

She had a quiet meal with some of the crew onboard, then wandered about Skywatch's market with the cub, looking for supplies to pick up before their journey to Valenwood. And when she returned to the ship at noon, there was still no sign of Vareysa, but she found Captain Jimila on the deck, sitting on a crate with a pitifully hungover expression.

"Oh, she hasn't come back?" Jimila muttered when Aneril approached her. "Sorry, but I don't know where she is…"

"Wasn't she with you last night?"

"Yeah. But then the drinks ran out…or did I pass out?" Jimila groaned into her paws, dragging her claws down tan fur. "Okay, wait. I think I…remember her staggering out of the tavern? But I don't know where she went. Sorry, friend."

"It's alright. I'll look for her," Aneril sighed, feeling the cub's tail slide around her calves as she walked over to the boarding ramp – and stopped.

A lone figure was trudging up the ramp with shoulders hunched, and though their jacket's hood was pulled low over their head, their identity was obvious.

"You're alive," Aneril said drily when Vareysa reached the ship.

"Unfortunately," she rumbled. "Ugh. Not now, cubby." She pushed the cub away with a foot, when it pawed at her legs.

"There you are," Jimila purred, as Vareysa went to lean heavily against her crate. "Where were you?"

"In the market. I woke up behind that huge boulder near the forge…fully-clothed, thank gods."

Jimila laughed. "Ah yes, speaking of which, you lost the contest. I'll have Oblan bring the laundry to you every morning."

"Guar shit." Vareysa slapped at her thigh. " _I_ won. And  _you_  were making a fool of yourself."

"Fine, fine." Jimila hopped off the crate, holding up her hands. "Honestly, I was hoping you'd forgotten that raunchy song about the queen."

"Hey, if it's any consolation? I would, too." Vareysa shot her a grin. "She does have a nice ass. Don't you agree?" She nudged at Aneril, who fixed her with an unamused stare.

Jimila clicked her tongue playfully. "Right. Now, try not to wander off. We'll cast off soon…when the Prowler stops spinning."

Vareysa heaved a sigh as the captain walked off. She looked at Aneril with a furrow between her brows, then grabbed at her elbow with surprising speed. "Oh, right. I have something for you…" She pushed the hood from her head, then squinted and cursed at her decision, and pulled the hood back on again. "Fuck the damned sun…"

Aneril watched her dig into an inner pocket of her jacket and fish out a neatly folded letter, handing it over.

"Courier found me while I was walking back… Said he was looking for a ' _gorgeous_  Dunmer wanderer and an Altmer soldier with a scar over her right eye'. Hope you don't mind, I thought the letter was for me too, so I took a peek."

"Huh." Aneril read its contents quickly. "Tharn wants to meet us in some place called…the 'Wormroot Depths'? An Ayleid ruin in Grahtwood."

"How convenient," Vareysa drawled. "Just where we're headed. Like it's preordained, or something."

Aneril rolled her eyes. "Go get some rest. Your humour isn't any better when you're half-dead."

"You think it'll get better when I'm fully dead?" Vareysa smirked, pushing herself up from the crate, only to sway forward and hug tightly at Aneril's arm. "I'm so tired, oh strong and valiant knight," she simpered. "I don't suppose you'll carry me to the cabin?"

"No."

"Please?"

"I'll dump you into the sea."

"How very cruel of you," Vareysa said with a pout. She reached up to tweak Aneril's nose, snickering when her hand was slapped away. "I'll bring you around one day, you frigid Altmer."

"I highly doubt it, you bothersome Dunmer."

* * *

According to Jimila, the ship voyage to Grahtwood – southern Valenwood and home to Elden Root – would take little more than two weeks, if the winds and seas were favourable. Aneril didn't mind the length of travel; she'd always enjoyed the simple motion of moving, be it on a horse, in a carriage, or on a ship. Sitting on a transport seemed to create this little bubble of serenity, where she was safe and secure in her own thoughts, and could just…let go for the moment. Especially now, after the past hectic weeks filled with a series of perilous missions, she cherished the time to just sit by herself, and not have to worry about the Dominion, the war…not even her absent soul.

Peace truly was a rare luxury these days.

Aneril looked up subtly from the book in her hands – a traveler's guide to Valenwood and the Bosmeri people – and fixed Vareysa with a thoughtful gaze. The Dunmer seemed unaware of the attention as she remained curled up in her bed opposite Aneril's, thoroughly engrossed in her own book – a collection of short stories about the old Yokudan warriors.

She'd fully expected Vareysa to grow restless a few days into the journey, but her companion appeared to enjoy the calm voyage as much as Aneril. Oh, she'd spent many hours exploring the decks of the ship, poking her nose into its many nooks and crannies with the cub by her side, and sometimes even climbed the rigging to reach the crow's nest for a good look at the waters around them. But she spent just as much time lounging under the sun, and reading the books she'd borrowed from Jimila's library in quiet corners around the ship. It was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. At least Aneril didn't have to deal with her constant prodding as she'd feared before…

She became distracted then, glancing at the small white figure that had sauntered through the door–

Aneril did a double-take at the tiger cub, who carried a large hunk of ham determinedly in a mouth that was a tad too small for its catch. The sight was endearing, of course – watching it struggle to keep the meat lodged between its fangs – but then Aneril realised where it must've taken the ham from.

"Did you get that–?" Aneril asked in a hushed tone, dropping her book to the bed as the cub turned its head to look at her. She jumped onto her feet, catching Vareysa's attention as she scooped up the cub in one arm, holding onto the ham so it wouldn't fall from its mouth. The cub whined as Aneril poked her head out the door, making sure the coast was clear and the chef wasn't storming down the corridor, on a hunt for the missing food. Kicking the door shut behind her, she went to set the cub down at the back of the cabin, hidden behind Vareysa's storage chest.

"Aw." Vareysa leaned over from her bed, watching the cub dig into its meal. "Baby went hunting!"

"Baby stole from the kitchen," Aneril retorted.

"Eh, it's just one ham. No one will care." Vareysa scratched at the cub's head, though it couldn't be distracted from the food. "Besides, what are you gonna do? Snatch a hungry cub's meal away, based on principles it doesn't understand?"

Aneril sighed, growing soft as they watched the cub eat. "No. But we have to teach it not to steal, or we'll have a serial thief on our hands."

"You teach it, oh paragon of virtue," Vareysa said disinterestedly, flopping onto the mattress on her back. "I'm sure you're much more qualified to do so."

"Whatever," Aneril muttered, picking up a stray piece of meat that flew away from the cub's mouth, during its excited chomping. She noted how carefully it nibbled at the offering, so it wouldn't bite her fingers on accident. The Khajiit was right, it seemed – this little one was intelligent. She smiled and rubbed her knuckles on top of its head, getting a muffled purr, then stroked slowly down its back. But something niggled away at her, and she didn't understand until she raised her head to meet that quiet, red-eyed gaze.

"What?" Aneril said reflexively.

Vareysa laughed softly. "You're one of those types, huh. The strong, silent one who hates people, but likes animals better."

Aneril narrowed her eyes, but didn't feel any sort of irritation – surprisingly. "I wonder why."

Grinning at her answer, Vareysa asked, "Ever had any pets?"

"A few." Aneril grunted as she stretched a hand towards the cabin's small table, grabbing a bowl and the jug of water. "We had dogs, cats, fishes…and horses, if you count them too."

"Huh. Are you rich?"

Aneril shrugged, pouring water into the bowl and setting it beside the cub. "My family is."

Vareysa hummed, looking at her thoughtfully. "Merchant-rich, landowner-rich, or just old money?"

"Landowner. And some old money, I guess."

"Oh, wow." Vareysa fell silent for a moment. "You…wanna kill anyone to get more inheritance?"

"Maybe."

She snickered at Aneril's quick answer, then quieted again. "Wait. You're not serious, are you?"

"Of course not," Aneril scoffed. "Not to get more money, anyway." She clicked her tongue when Vareysa laughed again, and slapped her shoulder.

"Humour! From you, no less. Ha!" Vareysa cackled away. "Never thought I'd live to see the day!"

Aneril grumbled when Vareysa's hand smacked at her again. "I'll show you 'humour' if you hit me aga–oh no."

She was distracted again by the cub – who'd lifted its head from the ham, and enthusiastically dunked its muzzle into the bowl of water. Then it jerked back in surprise, tongue flicking out to try and lick at its wet nose, stumbling around the floor like a drunk.

"Here, here. Hold on." Aneril plucked the cub from the ground and set it in her lap, wiping its nose with the hem of her shirt. The cub chuffed in thanks, getting another smile from Aneril.

"So, are you really going to keep him?" Vareysa asked, as Aneril hugged the cub to her chest.

"I don't know. At this point, it does seem like it," Aneril sighed. She met the cub's gaze, and cooed, "Do you want to stay or go, little boy?"

The cub chuffed, then shifted around in her arms, curling up as if to sleep. Aneril set it back in her lap, rubbing its now-longer and softer fur. "Do you think we should keep him?"

"No. But that's just me. A pet nearly ruined my contract once." Vareysa cocked her head. "Well, not really a 'pet', so to speak. Just this baby alit that got attached to me, back when I was in Vvardenfell. I tried to lose it, but then it found me again in the wilds –  _just_  as I was creeping into my target's camp. Gave my position away, but then I threw my dagger just right." She flicked a hand at Aneril, making a sound between her lips. "I  _always_  get my targets."

Aneril raised her eyes to the ceiling when Vareysa winked, but chose not to say anything, occupying herself by playing with the cub's tail instead.

"You know, if you're going to keep it, you should give it a name."

"Hm. I don't really…" Aneril stared blankly at the cub's white fur. "Um… Snow?"

" _Very_  inspired."

"Better than  _'cubby'_ ," Aneril shot back, unaware of the pout that appeared on her lips.

"Well then," Vareysa drawled. "Come up with a new one so 'cubby' doesn't stick." She paused when the cub growled sleepily in response. "…Maybe it already has."

"Snow…ball. Snowflake. Snowdrift."

"Just because it's white, doesn't mean its name has to be related to snow."

"You come up with it then!" Aneril said. "If you know everything that's white!"

"Er, clouds. Doves. Some chicken eggs are white too, I guess? Oh, egg whites are white. Porcelain? And uh…eyeballs."

Aneril snorted a laugh. "You want to name him 'Eyeball'?"

"Hey, I'm just listing everything that's white! You don't have to take it so literally." Vareysa mimicked her pout from just seconds before.

"How about…Stripes."

"Literal. How's…Fang?"

"That's literal too!" Aneril frowned down at the cub, then a giggle escaped her lips. "Flour."

"Salt. Sugar." Vareysa chuckled along with her. "Rice. Cream."

"Mashed potatoes. Milk. Bread… Damn it," Aneril groused. "Now I'm hungry."

"Me too," Vareysa sighed. She lay still in bed for a while, then pushed herself up. "Fancy a late-night pantry raid?"

"What is it with you and late-night snacks?" Aneril said. But Vareysa just raised her brows and waited, until Aneril's stomach finally won over. "Fine. Why not."

"Great!" Vareysa clapped her hands and leapt up from the bed. "Here, you can leave Cheese on my bed."

Aneril gathered the cub gently in her arms, depositing it on Vareysa's mattress. "His name is Risotto."

"Like hell it is." Vareysa pulled the door open. "How about Chicken?"

"We are  _not_  naming him Chicken!"

"Mushroom. Onion."

" _No!_ "


	5. Chapter 5

"Trouble."

Aneril looked to the captain, who frowned into her spyglass as she adjusted its magnification. A near-inaudible growl came from Jimila, before the Khajiit handed the spyglass to Aneril. She pressed it to her eye immediately, curiosity slaked when she saw the columns of smoke rising from the town they were approaching.

"Fires," Aneril muttered, recognising the signs all too well. "Looks controlled. Spread out too far from one another to be a natural occurrence."

"Damn it." Jimila let out a curse in her native tongue and turned around, but her command died in her throat when Aneril grabbed blindly at her shoulder, still scanning the waters between ship and shore – there were faint, irregular shimmers above the water…

Then she noticed it – the brief glimpse of a blade glinting under the sun.

"We have incoming–!"

Her warning arrived at the same time a fireball was lobbed out of thin air, and crashed into the deck of the ship. As Jimila roared for her crew to take up arms, Aneril knelt behind the banister and cast a rudimentary life detection spell, her hand coming alight with a deep purple glow that matched the life signs appearing over the waters.

 _A cloaking spell_.

Aneril charged a fistful of flames in her free hand, but the initiative was stolen when an arrow whistled through the air and pierced the chest of an invisible attacker, who fell off the side of their boat with a loud splash. Aneril glanced to her right, where Vareysa had let loose another arrow from her bow, fingers bearing a glow of the same shade as Aneril's.

Making sure to keep low while arrows flew towards the ship as well, Aneril hurried over to Vareysa's side and knelt down. "Aim for their mage."

"Yeah, I have no idea where their mage is." Vareysa didn't spare her a glance, shooting arrow after arrow with liquid grace and deadly accuracy – each shot was followed by a loud splash. "You figure it out, High Elf."

Aneril bit back a retort, and instead of pointing out that no spell existed with such a specific purpose–

She looked down at her hands, cocking her head.  _Hm_. Aneril summoned a good amount of magicka to her fists, feeling the harmless burn of dragon fire coiling around her skin, then stood up and let loose. She cast twin torrents of fire at the invisible fleet attacking them – one took out a boatful of their foes, while the other impacted the water, sending out strong waves that capsized the surrounding boats.

That did the trick – the cloaking spell faded, and flailing bodies amid a sea of splintered wood appeared before their eyes. But the flailing soon ended when they came to their senses and started swimming towards the ship. Aneril searched and spotted two staves in the mess. She pointed the mages out to Vareysa, who promptly sent an arrow to each throat.

First hurdle cleared, they rose to their feet and turned around to find the tiger cub standing behind them, with no small amount of confusion and fear in its innocent blue eyes. As Vareysa knelt down to comfort it, Jimila stormed over with blade drawn, hackles raised, and fury blazing in her eyes.

"Pirates, and I think they're attacking Haven as well," she hissed. "They're starting to climb in through the hull breaches. Bastards, I'll use their blood to swab the decks! Think they'll put more holes in my hull, do they? Right after we repaired the last ones–!"

" _Jimila_ ," Aneril said, grabbing the Khajiit by the shoulders. "Focus! We'll get below deck and fight them off."

"No. No, no." Jimila shook her head as if coming back to her senses. "We can't shore up the keel with saboteurs around, and there are more on the way. We'll keep them off our backs. And  _you_." She pointed towards the shore. "We spotted a soldier nearby. Looks like Khajiit royal guard and some refugees. You head to that soldier and see if you can help them. Stop the damned pirates from whatever the  _fuck_  they're doing."

Jimila whipped her head towards the loud crash, where the pirates had fought their way onto the deck. " _Go!_ " she barked at Aneril, then rushed off to aid her crewmen in combat.

First things first – Aneril covered Vareysa's back while she picked up the cub and hid him between a few barrels. "Stay here, cubby. We'll be back soon."

The tiger growled unwillingly but stayed put, craning its neck to watch them secure a boat with a sailor's help and climb down the side of the ship.

Since they didn't have a cloaking spell to hide their boat, Aneril conjured a magical barrier, blocking a few arrows and spells aimed in their direction as they rowed to shore. Once on land, they wasted no time in looking for the Khajiit soldier Jimila had spotted. The lieutenant bade them aid the Speaker for the Mane, Lord Gharesh-ri, who had led a few soldiers to the defense of Haven.

So off they went – Aneril wrinkling her nose as they ran through the swamp to reach the gates of Haven. Upon entering the town, they only had to fight a short way before spotting a group of uniformed Khajiiti soldiers standing guard around a house. They raised their weapons at Aneril's approach, but relaxed when they recognised the Dominion uniform she wore, and allowed her entry.

Lord Gharesh-ri greeted them quite calmly, given the emergency around them, but Aneril appreciated his composure as he spoke of his plan. Since they couldn't retake Haven with their smaller numbers, they had to focus on seizing its fort. But first, they had to discover the pirates' motive for capturing the town, instead of just razing it to the ground – if they removed the pirates' objective, they'd have less reason to stay.

Vareysa volunteered for this mission to discover the pirates' orders, and slipped into the shadows while Aneril stood guard with the other Khajiit, fending off the occasional thugs who dared an attack on the Speaker's base. And it seemed that little time had passed when someone gripped firmly onto her elbow, making Aneril jump in surprise and nearly swing her blade in Vareysa's direction.

Normally, she would've expected the Dunmer to pass a smart remark at her reaction, but Vareysa didn't seem in the mood for jokes. She shoved three parchments into a Khajiit soldier's hands and said quickly, "Bring these to the Speaker, and tell him to meet us at the fort."

Aneril was then forcibly dragged away, though she didn't bother fighting back. "Vareysa–"

"Hurry up!" Vareysa bit back at her, as they slid down a short grassy slope towards the coast, making for what seemed like an entrance to the town's sewer system. "The pirates are preparing for some necromantic ritual, and they dragged a whole bloody wamasu in here!"

"What?" Aneril asked as Vareysa picked the lock for the sewer's grates. "Why a wamasu?"

"I don't know." Vareysa pushed the gate open, drawing her blades as she cocked a brow at Aneril. "Would you like to pull a pirate over and ask nicely?"

Aneril rolled her eyes. "Let's just take care of it before they sic it on others."

"Oh, great," Vareysa said, following Aneril into the dank sewer tunnel. "I've always wanted a deadly wamasu for a pet. You think it'll be a good friend for Furball?"

"Not if it eats Silver Tail, no."

Aneril ignored Vareysa's snort as they ventured deep into the tunnels, which smelled  _much_  worse than the swamp. But Aneril didn't have the luxury to gripe about the stench, having to take deep breaths as they fought the pirates guarding the sewers. Her nose had long adjusted to the smell when they finally found the wamasu – a giant, dragon-like cousin of the crocodile, able to breathe lightning from its mouth.

They dove in opposite directions as lightning split the air where they once stood, and Aneril quickly found her footing, summoning a shield to her left hand as she attracted the wamasu's attention, giving Vareysa the space to deal with the beast master. Aneril had suffered a claw strike to her shoulder and a few bolts of lightning to her armour, when the wamasu became distracted by the elf who leapt onto its back. Its head reared in pain when Vareysa plunged her daggers into its leathery back, then it was further stunned by Aneril's flames scorching down its open mouth. That small window of time was all Vareysa needed to dart forward and sink her blades into its skull.

With a dying rasp, the wamasu collapsed to the floor. Aneril panted heavily, dragging the back of her hand over her forehead, as she approached the rope ladder leading up to the fort. But she was stopped short when Vareysa grabbed onto her elbow again.

"You're still bleeding," Vareysa said, nodding at her shoulder.

Aneril cursed when she looked at her wound, bringing a hand up to heal it. "There goes another pauldron."

"It was ugly anyway."

"Still better than yours." She smirked at Vareysa's scoff, and climbed up ladder.

Only a few unwary pirates stood in their way towards the fort's gates, and they dispatched the disoriented thugs before opening the gates for Gharesh-ri, who already stood waiting with his soldiers. But they were given no reprieve just yet – the Speaker told them of the undead filling the streets, and tasked them with ending its source within the abandoned Fighter's Guild building, while he provided a distraction.

They shared a glance, took deep breaths, then set off towards their target. Aneril followed Vareysa along a quieter path to skirt around the fighting, and shot her partner a glare when she was chided for  _'clanking around in that tinpot armour'_. Vareysa grinned as they reached the Guild's entrance, and Aneril channeled her annoyance into a spell that blasted the locked doors open.

A lone warrior in the entryway stared at them in surprise, while three robed figures in the back remained unperturbed, engrossed in their ritual. Vareysa whispered for Aneril to distract the warrior while she took care of the mages, then vanished from sight with her cloaking spell. Before the pirate warrior could lunge in Vareysa's direction, Aneril flew into her instead, giving her a solid bash with the magical shield. The Nord warrior's mouth curled in a sneer, and she met Aneril's strikes blade-for-blade.

They were well-matched in skill, and the Nord's build was similar to Aneril's, giving the Altmer no physical advantage in this battle. But one thing the Nord clearly lacked was magical ability, and that was a weakness Aneril quickly dug into. Instead of relying on her blade, Aneril lashed out with her flame whip, which the Nord couldn't block with her greatsword alone. As the Nord tired, Aneril whipped at her legs in quick succession, causing her to falter in her steps. Then Aneril lunged, thrusting the tip of her blade where the Nord's armour that had been melted by magical fire. The Nord grunted in surprise, wide eyes fixed on Aneril as the greatsword fell from her hands. She crumpled to the floor when Aneril delivered one last cut across her neck.

"Uh, Aneril? A little help here."

"What is it?" Aneril asked, though she quickly answered the question herself as she approached the ritual circle. There were three glowing focus crystals set into pedestals, which couldn't seem to be harmed even with Vareysa jabbing insistently at them with her daggers.

"Time to work some magic of the Highest caliber, yes?"

"Stop that," Aneril sighed, examining one crystal. She hesitated, unsure if her own destructive magic would work on it, but shot a lance of flame anyway. Her body was coiled, ready to dodge if her spell was deflected, but the crystal shattered upon impact. "Huh. Not very well protected."

"Are you complaining?" Vareysa asked as Aneril shot two more spells, destroying the remaining crystals.

"No." It was her turn to grab the Dunmer's arm, tugging her over. "Now  _you're_  bleeding."

As she held a gold-glowing hand over the wound on Vareysa's back, her companion smiled. "I knew you cared."

Aneril clicked her tongue, then smacked the finger poking at her cheek. "I hate you."

"Sure you do."

* * *

Having broken the pirates' hold over Haven, Lord Gharesh-ri's soldiers had little trouble in driving out the rest of the invaders. The Altmer and Dunmer pair, tired and aching from an entire day of fighting, crashed at the foot of a tree, catching their breath under the cool shade as citizens hurried around town, taking stock of the damages their home had suffered. It didn't take long before the cub appeared and raced over to them, with a ruffled Jimila following behind him, griping about the state of her battered ship.

They slept at Haven for the night, putting up in a warehouse due to the extensive damage dealt to the local inn. Then it was off to Elden Root, which was just half a day's trek from Haven. Their journey was smooth, though oddly peaceful with other travelers walking along the same path, after the past hectic day. Aneril could hardly complain, but she  _was_  on the verge of doing so anyway.

Vareysa glanced over when she fidgeted with the stiff collar of her armour again. "Warm?"

Aneril grunted and dug her fingers into the collar, pulling her armour this way and that, allowing some sorely-needed ventilation. "Humid."

"Your armour's too heavy," Vareysa said, knocking her knuckles on Aneril's sturdy but charred breastplate. "Come on, you know I'm right," she added when Aneril swatted at her hands. "It weighs you down, it makes too much noise, and now it's going to suffocate you. You should switch to something lighter, like mine." Vareysa patted at her own leathers proudly, which bore a few scuffs over its dark surface, but was mostly undamaged.

"I already take enough damage wearing a full suit of armour," Aneril countered.

"Maybe that's because you can't evade attacks with those weights on you."

"Or  _maybe_  because I always act as a decoy for  _you_."

"Hm. Good point. But my suggestion still stands." Vareysa shrugged, then left Aneril to combat the cloying heat all on her lonesome.

By the time they reached Elden Root, it was late in the afternoon, but Aneril headed for the throne room first, leaving Vareysa and the cub to secure a room at the inn. Her effort was for naught though, as she found the throne empty, and an attendant informed her that the Bosmer King had left on some business with the Altmer prince. With nothing else to do, Aneril spent the rest of the day exploring the bustling capital city with her companions, then retired to the inn at night.

That was, until Vareysa slung her smaller satchel over her shoulder, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Aneril asked, noting the daggers on her belt.

"Business. I'll be back soon."

"You're not going to…"

"No, I told you." Vareysa turned back from the door with a sigh. "I can't kill without a writ."

"Then…business," Aneril repeated. "In a city you've never been to."

Vareysa kept quiet when Aneril's eyes remained fixed on her. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

Aneril heaved a sigh. "That's…not what I–"

"Then follow me." Vareysa turned towards the door, then paused and glanced back at her. "And leave your armour behind."

* * *

Dressed simply in a shirt, leather jerkin and pants, Aneril followed Vareysa down the path circling around the Elden Tree, the Dunmer's red eyes subtly scanning their surroundings as they went along. When they paused by the stables, Vareysa looking around in search of something, Aneril asked, "Do you even know where you're going?"

"I have directions." She patted at Aneril's shoulder and walked off, expecting her companion to follow again.

They crossed a shallow stream and strolled on until they found a metal grating set into the ground, below the thick boughs of a secluded tree. There was a curious white symbol painted over the grate.

"Sewers. Again," Aneril said, already wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah," Vareysa replied nonchalantly, glancing around to ensure they were alone, then swung the grate up. "Now, do me a favour and don't look so official."

"What do you mean, 'official'?" Aneril asked. She followed Vareysa down the metal rungs set into the stone well, and pulled the grate shut behind them.

"You'll see." Vareysa's voice echoed slightly in the enclosed space.

It was a short climb, and Aneril was…surprised when they entered the cistern. She'd expected the same dark and grimy sewers they'd seen back in Haven, but certainly not a healthy cherry blossom tree growing in the centre of the cistern, thick branches reaching up to the clefts in rock through which sunlight would shine in the day. Around it, there were various stations that resembled merchant stalls in the market above, with light foot traffic and hushed murmurs as the cistern's inhabitants went about their business.

"What is this place?" Aneril whispered.

"Outlaws' refuge," Vareysa replied quietly. "Usually you'll only find thieves and brokers in this place, but you'll get the occasional…people like me."

Vareysa ignored Aneril's frown as she glanced around, and seemed to spot someone she was looking for. She strode over to one stall with Aneril in tow, reaching into her satchel to retrieve a small pouch and a folded note.

"J'Kharsa sends his regards." Vareysa handed the note to the stall's Khajiiti owner, then dropped her pouch onto the table. "And this is for sale."

The Khajiit hummed, nodding as he read the note. He gave Vareysa a thoughtful look, and regarded Aneril with sharp eyes. "This one, she looks like a guard."

"It's a good cover," Vareysa said, lips curling slightly as she knocked a fist at Aneril's chest, the Altmer bristling beside her. When the Khajiit turned his attention to the pouch, Vareysa caught Aneril's gaze and squinted slightly, her message clear.

Aneril sighed quietly to herself and rolled her rigid shoulders, then her eyes widened at the small haul of gems and trinkets the Khajiit had poured out of Vareysa's pouch. He gave a throaty purr at the sight, spreading what must be stolen loot over his table, examining each item with his eyes and prodding them with clawed fingers.

"This," he said, holding a ruby up to the fire's light. "Is quality, my friend."

"Of course it is." Vareysa crossed her arms with a satisfied smile. "Now, how much?"

* * *

When they left the refuge, Vareysa's pouch was much,  _much_  heavier than when she first entered the cistern.

"You steal on the  _regular?_ " Aneril asked in a hushed, pointed tone.

"Would you rather I pick pockets, or slit throats?" Vareysa said quietly as they went back to the heart of the city. She smiled when Aneril's stare remained unamused, then slung an arm around her companion's. "Come on, drinks are on me tonight."

"Not going to rob me while I'm drunk, are you," Aneril deadpanned, slipping her arm away as they approached the tavern.

"Please. I can do it even when you're sober. But I won't," she added with a wink.

They managed to nab a small table at the side of the tavern, and ordered a single flask of rotmeth to share, the both of them curious to try the Bosmeri alcohol made from fermented meat juices. It was said to be…unpalatable to foreign taste buds when drunk for the first time.

"You sure you don't want some tea on hand?" the Bosmer waitress asked again, setting the flask and two mugs on their table.

"Not for now, thank you." Vareysa flashed her a bright smile, but the waitress just gave her a knowing, incredulous look, and walked away. Vareysa poured the brown liquid into their mugs, and they both took a sip – then coughed loudly after forcing the liquid down their throats.

"Tea?" the waitress asked from the bar.

"Yes, please!" Vareysa called back, and she wore a pained grin as she looked down into her mug. "Gods, it's like…alcohol, if it could rot."

" _Rot_ meth," Aneril uttered. She swallowed hard, trying not to gag at the confusing mix of bitter, sweet, and salty on her tongue, accompanied by generous spicing and – like Vareysa said – the subtle tang of rot. The last one was a real kicker.

"I'd suggest you finish the rotmeth first," the waitress said, returning with two cups of steaming hot tea. "Then wash the taste off with this. But you can drink the tea whenever the rotmeth becomes too much."

"Of course. Thank you." But Vareysa didn't wait to take the first sip of tea, then twice more before she set the cup down. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for some good shein right now."

"Shein?" Aneril asked, braving another mouthful of rotmeth. It tasted as bad as the first.

"Comberry wine from home. Best way to relax at the end of the day…second only to sujamma." Vareysa sighed wistfully, then took a quick gulp from her own mug of rotmeth, face screwing up at the taste. "Damn. Can't believe I miss getting wasted  _properly_  at home."

"Why don't you go back then?" Aneril asked flatly. The third draught of rotmeth went down a little more smoothly, but still with difficulty.

"I'd…rather not yet."

Aneril peered at her discretely, catching the fleeting look of uncertainty on her face before she drank more rotmeth, seemingly more out of a need for distraction. "Why?"

Vareysa smiled – close-lipped and cautious. "Reasons."

"Right."

"Why don't you want to go back to being a captain?" She turned the subject around with no pretense at subtlety.

"Reasons." Another gulp of rotmeth, and a chuckle from Vareysa. "I don't like how the army works. The lower you are in rank, the less you know about the purpose of your orders."

Vareysa nodded. "I understand."

"I prefer the way it is in the Guild. The contracts are clearer, more personal. You know  _why_  you're fighting, most of the time."

"Wait, the Fighters Guild?" Vareysa barked a laugh at her nod. "I was in the Guild too! A long time ago."

"Before you switched professions?"

"Yeah. I won't say those were good times, but…" Vareysa sighed, drinking more rotmeth without a twitch in her expression. "I understand what you mean. It's like that in the Tong as well." She shifted her chair closer to Aneril, having lowered her voice.

"Really. It's not,  _'you point, I stab'_?"

"No. Well, I guess it is – to a point. But in each writ, we're given a name  _and_  the purpose of their death."

Aneril cocked her head. "So? You still…murder."

"Yes, but see. We are the reason why Morrowind hasn't suffered from a civil war between the Great Houses. You know about the Houses, right?"

"Vaguely."

"Good enough. Trust me, with the amount of tension and animosity between the Houses, they would've gone to war with one another if they had to. But they don't. With us, they can fight a cleaner war in the shadows – hurt each other to let off steam, steal a little more power, send a message, whatever they wish to achieve. We let them feel the pain of war, without  _actually_  going to war. Get it?"

Aneril thought it over, then shook her head.

"Not convinced, huh?" Vareysa breathed a laugh, and knocked back the remaining rotmeth in her mug. "Join the club."

Aneril blinked, gazing at the Dunmer curiously. But Vareysa didn't seem inclined to elaborate, drumming her fingers on her empty mug before reaching for the flask again. Aneril made a face when Vareysa refilled her mug as well.

"So, are you going to stay with the Eyes for long?" Vareysa asked. "Any plans to return to the Guild?"

"I think so, yes. But it'll probably be after…all of this." Aneril waved her hand vaguely, and sighed. "I don't know. At this point, I just…feel like I'm being led around by the nose."

"One thing always leads to another." Vareysa smiled. "And in your case, it's always one danger after another. Honestly, I'm surprised we're still alive."

"Join the club."

Vareysa laughed, and raised her mug. "Here, to our continued survival despite your countless attempts to kill us both."

"Whatever," Aneril huffed, but lifted her cup as well.


	6. Chapter 6

King Camoran Aeradan of the Bosmer people. Aneril had expected him to be like Queen Ayrenn, who carried herself with dignity and grace, but he couldn't be more different from the Altmer monarch. When she approached the throne, his exasperation and exhaustion were written clear on his face, though some curiosity became apparent as well. Aneril had just strode past the long lines of petitioners to reach him – a feat she could only achieve by quietly revealing her status as an Eye of the Queen to the steward.

Taking care not to look back at the disgruntled petitioners, Aneril inquired about the unrest in Elden Root that the Queen had spoken of, and was treated to a vexed huff.

"How are you at building embassies?" Camoran said, dripping rhetoric. "You see, Queen Ayrenn promised one would be built for the Khajiit, as a gesture of goodwill. But now a year has passed, and there's still no Khajiit Embassy. This has led to no end of headaches."

"What has caused the delay?"

"Good question. You wish to serve the Camoran throne? You can start by asking Prince Naemon why his people aren't fulfilling his promises." The King nodded at the corner of the throne room, where the prince stood by a table with only two attendants. "He's the one who seems to have the entire Elden Tree lodged up his flue. I can say that," he added, noticing the twitch in Aneril's placid expression. "I'm the king."

Honestly, Aneril wanted to laugh, but couldn't at the prospect of having to deal with the Prince. Her experience with him had been cursory at best, but she'd already developed a dislike for the mer. Nevertheless, she bowed to the King in thanks, and steeled herself as she approached the prince's corner of the room.

"Yes? Quickly now," Naemon said impatiently, not bothering to look up from the documents on the table. "Don't just stand there and leave your mouth to hang agape."

"The King says there are some problems with the Khajiit embassy, Your Highness?"

"That again?" Naemon looked up with a frown, and paused for a fleeting moment upon recognising her. "My sister… Queen Ayrenn foolishly committed to build the Khajiit an embassy, months ago. Ambassador Tarinwe at the Altmer Embassy is to oversee its construction."

"And why has it been delayed?" Aneril kept her tone neutral, but it still managed to rub the prince the wrong way.

"No," he said curtly. " _You_  don't get to question me. Not after you slew High Kinlady Estre. Do you think I'm one to chat with the person who killed my wife? That we'll break out the sylph-mead and share a good laugh?"

Aneril bristled at his accusation – visibly, in an impulsive bid to reciprocate his hostile manner. His wife had plotted the Queen's downfall, and yet  _he_ …still grieves for his spouse.

Clenching her jaw, Aneril let out a breath discretely to calm her temper. "I think Queen Ayrenn trusts you to put the Dominion's interests before your own."

Naemon's frown deepened, before his expression smoothed over. "Hmph. I suppose that's my burden. Very well, I won't give you the satisfaction of doubting my loyalty. You were asking about the delay in the embassy's construction? Ask a stonemason. I have to prepare for the ratification ceremony before Queen Ayrenn's arrival. I can't be troubled with such minor issues."

"The ratification ceremony?" Aneril asked, tilting her head.

"An archaic Wood Elf ritual. If she dances to their tune, Queen Ayrenn will be recognised by the heavens as a worthy candidate for emperor of Tamriel. Rubbish, if you ask me." Naemon snorted. "All this trouble to 'promote harmony', as she'd tell you. Same reason she picked this bizarre tree city as the Dominion's capital. She wants every member of the Dominion to feel as if they're equal."

So many things in his words that Aneril wanted to pick apart, but she was growing tired of him. She nodded politely, then asked, "And the embassy?"

"Speak with Ambassador Tarinwe at the Altmer Embassy. Now, leave me. I have more important matters to attend to." With that, he turned back to the table.

Aneril gave a quick salute, catching the apologetic gaze of the prince's attendant, then marched out of the throne room.  _Altmer nobility_. She cursed them in the back of her mind – one of them in particular – as she walked down the vast hallways of the Elden Tree, and made for the western exit leading towards the Altmer Embassy. She'd just walked out into a street lined with market stalls when a grip on her arm made her stop and turn around.

"Hey! Were you going to leave us behind?"

"No." Aneril shook off Vareysa's hand. "I'm just going over to the embassy."

"Alright, then. Let's go."

"No,  _you_  stay here. It's the  _Altmer_  embassy, Vareysa," she explained when her companion started to protest. "They're not going to take kindly to a Dunmer entering their grounds."

"Then I'll stay outside."

"No," Aneril repeated for the third time. "Stay  _here_. You'll fit in here." She gestured at the stalls, which were tended by merchants of all races – who had the proper documents to prove their legal right to trade in Dominion territory, and protected them from harassment by law enforcement. Vareysa had her own – forged – papers to help her pass as a Fighters Guild member, but Aneril would rather she not use them.

"Fine." Vareysa crossed her arms. "But I'll be waiting."

That's the best she could get, so Aneril left her in the market without further argument.

The walk up to the embassy grounds was peaceful enough, but that superficial image was shattered when she reached the main building, before which a group of Khajiit protestors stood, held at bay by two Dominion soldiers. Aneril circled around the group to enter the embassy, and found Ambassador Tarinwe standing by a fireplace, scribbling into her notebook. Tarinwe was rude at first, but promptly changed her tune upon learning that Aneril had been sent by Prince Naemon. Even then, she remained evasive and gave only vague answers to Aneril's questions. She mentioned tasking some Bosmer and Khajiit to gather construction materials, then directed Aneril towards the storeroom to check on their supplies as proof.

Aneril was curious when the ambassador scurried off hurriedly after their conversation, but headed to the storeroom as suggested. There, she was stonewalled by its lone guard, who demanded written permission from the ambassador.

"She didn't give me anything."

"Then I can't let you inside." The guard widened his stance and stood akimbo, but Aneril was hardly impressed. "No written orders, no entry. I'm to remain at my post until relieved. Except in an emergency, of course."

"Emergency?"

"Yeah. The Khajiit could riot." He nodded at the crowd behind her. "That would be bad, very bad. Or a fire could break out, but the chances of that are slim. So if you're done pestering me, I would–"

Aneril growled, patience slipping for the first time since morning. She stepped forward, squaring her shoulders as she glared down at the shorter Altmer. "If you don't step aside," she intoned. " _You_  are going to have an emergency."

The guard stared back at her, weighing his options as he withered before Aneril. He swallowed, eyes twitching away. "I–, uh… Wait, did you hear that? I could've  _sworn_  it's my captain, calling me away. I'll just…"

He sidestepped away from her, looking not unlike a crab as he scuttled off, leaving Aneril free to enter the storeroom. The results of her investigation were dismal, turning up rotten food supplies and empty supply crates. Prince Naemon was standing outside the door when she emerged, and his apparent irritation grew when she reported her findings. Then he sent Aneril to check on the local work crew in the nearby ruins, where they were supposed to collect the stone.

A salute, and the agent went off on her new assignment – this time, with Vareysa in tow. Despite her instructions, Aneril found the Dunmer waiting with the cub outside the embassy,  _away_  from the market. Vareysa's roguish smile, though, was an unexpected relief after spending half the day dealing with scowling bureaucrats, and Aneril gladly took her along to the ruins.

There, they found the body of a Bosmer worker next to a broken cart, both equally beaten up by a blunt instrument. It was then a Vinedusk Ranger – an agent of King Camoran – shed his cloaking spell and revealed himself to them. The King had his own suspicions about the work crew and Ambassador Tarinwe, it seemed, and had assigned his agents to dig further into the matter. The ranger had uncovered Tarinwe's…dubious associations, and her use of criminals to smuggle supplies from the Dominion. He expressed frustration at being unable to reach Tarinwe while she's in the embassy, and when Aneril mentioned that she'd left the grounds, he fell into a thoughtful silence.

"Interesting. Meet me by the Middens, at the base of the Elden Tree. I'll be there shortly."

They'd had to wait by the Tree's roots for the ranger, but he showed up in haste and confirmed Tarinwe's presence within the Middens – an underground hideout for unsavoury types like skooma addicts and criminals. Before they entered, Aneril debated with Vareysa on leaving the cub at the entrance, but decided they wouldn't risk its capture by some unscrupulous stranger. So Aneril cast a protection spell on it, and made sure it only followed them at a distance, before they ventured into the Middens.

As expected, they were embroiled in a few fights along the way, the criminals assuming that their operations were being clamped down on – not an illogical assumption, given the ranger's and Aneril's distinctive uniforms. It was an annoyance to Aneril, but they were able to blow through the thugs easily, and eventually found Tarinwe hiding in the deepest pit of the Middens, protected by guards that were dispatched quickly. The ambassador tried to plead her way out of capture, but as Aneril secured a length of rope around her wrists, the ranger found a letter that proved Tarinwe's involvement with the Veiled Heritance.

Something heavy dropped into Aneril's gut at the revelation – she'd thought the Heritance dead, after the demise of Veiled Queen Estre back in Auridon. That only affirmed the importance of taking Tarinwe into custody, and they led the ambassador up to the throne room, where King Camoran broke into a smile at their achievement.

"She conspired against the Dominion? Oh good, nothing I enjoy more than the talk of conspiracy. Did she have a manifesto? They usually have manifestos." He huffed in amusement, fidgeting with his bushy beard. "Now, I'll allow you the honour of informing Prince Naemon. Why not tell him the duly selected High Elf ambassador was working against the very Dominion she pledged to support? Go on. I'll sit in my throne and try not to gloat."

Naemon wasn't well-liked around here, and it was obvious that he returned those feelings. "I heard what you said to the king. Ambassador Tarinwe, a traitor; my wife's killer, a loyal servant; and I, Queen Ayrenn's representative in Elden Root, required to thank you for your efforts," he said, condescending. Still, he handed a signed slip to Aneril, which entitled her to a respectable pay from the treasury.

The prince then sent Aneril to the Orrery – where the Queen's ratification ceremony would be held, but was now suspected of being sabotaged by the ambassador. Meleras, the Orrery's expert, was warm and showed them around the Orrery, recounting the Ayleid device's history to the newcomers. Though Aneril noticed him glancing curiously at Vareysa, he spoke nothing of his concerns, and gladly answered Vareysa's questions.

After the little tour, he spoke of more pertinent matters – mainly, ensuring the Orrery would run flawlessly during the ceremony. Since they couldn't be sure if the device was truly sabotaged, they couldn't rely on the delicate magic they'd prepared to operate it. Instead, they would use tangible, and more reliable alternatives. That included a skilled operator, an Ayleid source of power, and a 'divine spark' – which Meleras identified as Conservator Daraneth, The Heart of Anumaril, and Rajhin's Mantle respectively.

None of which sounded easy to obtain, but all Aneril could do was nod her head and accept the assignment.

"I think now I know why it's called the Dominion," Vareysa drawled, as they climbed the steps up to the Orrery's exit. "It dominates all your time and energy. I'm surprised any of you have kept sane."

Aneril parted her lips, but all she could do was take a breath and sigh.

 _No argument here_.

* * *

The Bosmer mage, Daraneth, had gone to Southpoint on some personal matter. Since the town was to the south and out of the way, Aneril decided to fetch her first, before rounding their way to northern Grahtwood to secure the two artifacts. Southpoint was just under two days' hike from Elden Root, and they made good time in reaching the halfway point at Haven. They spent the night in the town's still-damaged inn, then set out in the morning so they could reach Southpoint while the sun was still in the sky.

"And…go!"

"Vareysa…"

"What?"

Aneril made a face as she watched the cub run after the wooden branch, which Vareysa had thrown farther down the road. "He's not a dog."

"So? He enjoys it." Vareysa paused in her steps when the cub sprinted back, hopping on its paws eagerly, tilting its head up to offer the branch in its mouth to her. Vareysa took it, and waved it around as they continued down the road, letting the cub jump and swat at the makeshift toy. They could hear a scrape each time his claws met wood.

"He's a…predator. Not a pet," Aneril said uncertainly.

"He's still young, and he needs to play," Vareysa replied, whipping the stick up so high that the cub made an impressive leap for it. "See? We're training his hunting skills too."

Aneril sighed. "If you say so, mother tigress…" She turned her gaze away from the pair, and was immediately drawn to the figure running down the road towards them.

"Hey, stop! Southpoint is off-limits–" The Bosmer soldier stopped short, giving Aneril a once-over. "Wait, you're Dominion? You don't happen to have more soldiers following after you?"

"No. Why, what's happening? I'm heading to Southpoint for…"

" _Damn!_ " The Bosmer didn't seem interested in Aneril's explanation. "Listen, I'm running up to Elden Root to get reinforcements. The citizens of Southpoint are killing each other in the streets. It's… I've seen nothing like it. Captain Elonthor may need help evacuating survivors. You'll find him by the road, outside of town."

Aneril agreed, and the soldier took off again, rushing down the road as if there were a pack of wolves on her tail. With such disturbing news of the town, Aneril picked up their traveling pace, and they reached the town by mid-afternoon. Captain Elonthor reported the same as his soldier: that the townsfolk seemed to have gone mad, and had turned on each other. It was all he could do to keep the violence contained with so few soldiers, and he'd lost the scouts investigating the source of the madness.

Naturally, Aneril offered to search for the scouts, then inquired about Daraneth. The captain shrugged, and spoke of her 'eccentricity' while pointing his thumb at one of the tents to the side, from which a Bosmer woman emerged with a curious look mixed with suspicion.

"Did someone call my name?" Daraneth asked as Aneril neared her. "Did Captain Elonthor send you to mock me? Did you come to tell me I don't know the work of a Daedric Prince when I see one?"

Aneril cocked her head. "Daedric Prince?"

"Isn't it obvious? Madness swept through Southpoint like a plague, and so quickly! Only one Daedric Prince has such power."

Thinking it over, Aneril guessed, "Sheogorath."

"Exactly! The Daedric Prince of Madness himself, here in Southpoint. It's all rather exciting, isn't it?" Dareneth took the staff strapped to her back. "Come on, now. The Captain wanted to find his scouts, didn't he? Let's get going – I know my way around town."

"I'd…rather you stay back here," Aneril said. "You're needed in Elden Root for the ratification ceremony, and–"

"Actually, I'm needed in Southpoint. Unless the queen prefers it left to the whims of a Daedric Prince, she can wait." Daraneth walked towards the town's gates, then stopped after a few paces and shot an expectant look back at Aneril, who hesitated.

Turning back to Vareysa, Aneril said, "Stay here."

"What! You're kidding, you want to tackle a Daedric Prince alone, with that…old mage for help?" Vareysa lowered her voice towards the end, aware that Daraneth was still watching them. "Aneril–"

"Yes, we're dealing with a Prince, and that's why you'll stay behind. There's no telling if the madness won't take us as well. Better to give him less victims." Aneril let out a breath, and drew her sword. "Do me a favour, and stay here." She started to walk away quickly, not wanting to give Vareysa a chance to argue, but the Dunmer grabbed onto her arm before she got too far.

Vareysa wore a deep frown as she regarded Aneril quietly. "Be careful."

A nod, and Aneril broke away when Vareysa's grip loosened, hearing the tiger cub chuff after her.

Since the town was filled with crazed citizens, Aneril took a leaf out of Vareysa's book and stuck to the shadows, avoiding as many fights as she could, and cursing just how noisy her metal armour was. Whenever she attracted some attention, she made sure to dispatch their foes non-lethally and quickly, before they could reach Daraneth who trailed behind her.

Together, they worked through the madness of the town, finding two of the Dominion scouts already delirious, while the last one relayed his experience of being brought before the town's mayor, and witnessing the rest of his scouts turned into bears.

_Madness, indeed._

Fortunately, Daraneth could turn the bears back with her magic, though Aneril would have to distract the bears while she performed the spell. A simple enough task – all Aneril had to do was keep her magical ward up long enough, endure the heavy blows of bear claws, until the animals were changed back into mer. Scouts saved, they made for Daraneth's house, where she had a scroll capable of unsealing the cathedral's doors, which the mayor had locked behind him with magic.

Just as Aneril entered Daraneth's house, madness manifested as a deadly storm under its roof. She threw herself back before she was electrocuted, and agreed with Daraneth that someone had conjured this unnatural storm. They made for the highest point in town where the culprit likely was – an old Colovian tower – and sure enough, lightning started falling from the sky, scorching the ground before them. Aneril made Daraneth stay behind while she ran in a haphazard path, and was nearly in disbelief when she reached the tower unscathed. She gathered herself, then climbed up the top of the tower, where a ragged Nord in dirty clothing laughed maniacally as he rained lightning over the town.

He flailed his hands at Aneril in threat when she closed in on him, and she was forced to stop and listen to his hysterical rant, venting his anger at a town that had belittled him. The lightning in his hands sparked to life frequently while he raved, but Aneril managed to calm him down, to make him think about what he'd done to the town's citizens. He started to show remorse, and Aneril took one step towards him, only to be taken aback when a bolt of lightning struck him down.

She was shocked, but left the man's body alone at Daraneth's urging, and went to retrieve the scroll which they used to unlock the cathedral's doors. They found Mayor Aulus within, angered beyond reason, claiming that Sheogorath had given him respect and power over the town, but cursed him so that he'd brought his town to madness and ruin.

Aneril had started lifting her sword, when she was surprised yet again – this time, by Daraneth. Or rather,  _Sheogorath_ , who had emerged from Daraneth's body, leaving the Bosmer to collapse to the floor, unconscious. The Daedric Prince offered to take away the mayor's 'gift', but Aulus pleaded to keep it. At which point Sheogorath shrugged, and turned back to Aneril, regarding her with a dark, crooked smile. Before she could react, he waved his hand, and Aneril blacked out.

When she awoke, it was in a cell, with Daraneth tending to her. Her body felt weak, head light, and a wave of nausea hit her as she pushed herself up. Daraneth had found Aneril in the cell, foaming at the mouth, the mage explained. And it seemed neither woman could remember how they got there.

As if in answer, Sheogorath popped into being outside the cell doors, and offered them a deal: that Aneril would try to kill Mayor Aulus, in exchange for her and Daraneth's freedom. Aulus had mucked things up after being granted power, Sheogorath lamented, and he wanted Aneril to force the mayor into growing bold enough…to kill her.

It was difficult to divine the Prince's intent, or even follow his words – he spoke in riddles written in nonsense, punctuated by whimsical conjectures – and Aneril just shook her head out of annoyance, then accepted his deal. Whether she liked it or not, this was their best chance of escape. But she had to leave Daraneth in the cell at Sheogorath's… _insistence_ , and he informed her cheerfully that Daraneth would be roasted like a goose if Aneril bored the Prince too much. Then, with a hearty farewell, Sheogorath vanished from sight.

Aneril gritted her teeth; she'd never thought it possible, but she'd just found someone who annoyed her much  _deeper_  than Vareysa ever had.

… _Thank gods she didn't come along._

Alone, she had to fight through the Daedra and undead prowling around the catacombs' tunnels, and was sidetracked repeatedly by Sheogorath, who forced her into playing games with all the enthusiasm of a child. Bridge puzzles, lever-pulling, monster ambushes; Aneril was left panting and bleeding at the end – not to mention  _angry_ , which Sheogorath took no small amount of joy in. Given the Prince's amusement, Aneril could only assume that Daraneth was still safe in her cell.

Finally, she climbed out of the catacombs, and found Mayor Aulus still standing in the very cathedral where they'd left him. He argued the injustice done to him, and pleaded for Aneril to spare him.

"My family ruled Southpoint for generations! But after we lost everything, where was my birthright then?" Aulus gestured wildly with his hands. "They wouldn't bow to me as they should, so now I've made them bow. It's the burden a true leader must bear. I shouldn't have to die for it!"

Aneril's patience snapped, and she grabbed Aulus by the collar, dragging him forward so they stood face-to-face. "I'm  _sick_  of your nonsense. Your ego caused the deaths of your people, you spineless bastard," she hissed, raising her sword. "If Sheogorath won't take you to Oblivion, then I'll send you there  _myself!_ "

He whimpered, trying to reach for the greatsword on his back. But before Aneril could bring her sword down on him, Sheogorath's voice boomed behind her.

"Wait, that's it! I'll go away with him, if he'll have me!" Sheogorath laughed, clapping his hands at what he obviously thought was a brilliant idea. "Besides, there's not much of Southpoint left. It's a bit…used up, don't you think?"

Aulus withered at Sheogorath's offer, but he took a timid glance at Aneril, and nodded. Sheogorath snapped his fingers, and the mayor vanished in a pop of light.

"Ah, you know," Sheogorath sighed airily. "I really do admire this town. Shame I can't take it with me. Oh, but can't I? I know just where to put it!"

"We had a  _deal_ ," Aneril growled, so tired of the Prince's absurdity, that she couldn't be  _arsed_  to stay cautious with him.

"We did, didn't we?" Sheogorath hummed, looking her over. "Well, I suppose you're right. Aulie and I could always visit. Perhaps during hurricane season! That would be delightful." He grinned at Aneril. "Ta!"

There were two bursts of light – one from Sheogorath's disappearance, and the other was Daraneth materialising in the cathedral. Daraneth gasped at Aneril's bleeding state, and hurried over to her.

"I'm so sorry, I'm drained of magicka at the moment. We'd better get you back to camp…"

Leaning on Daraneth for support, Aneril trudged back towards camp, walking through the town of dazed people sitting on the ground in shock. When they neared the camp, however, it seemed her troubles hadn't ended just yet. A haggard Dominion soldier – she recognised him as one of the scouts turned into bears – was holding Vareysa at sword point, rambling at the top of his voice, while the rest stood around them with hands on weapons. Vareysa merely stood her ground, unperturbed, with that smile on her lips. The cub was growling beside her legs, hackles raised, its little body coiled and ready to pounce.

"She is a Pact spy!" the soldier shouted as Aneril came up behind him. "Why do you  _refuse_  to see it! Why else would a Dunmer be skulking about our camp? We–, we have to stop her now–"

" _Shut up!_ " Aneril roared. When the soldier whirled around in shock, she grabbed him by the collar. "She helped to undo the Veiled Heritance's influence in Auridon. She helped us hunt down the traitor Estre.  _She_  ensured the safety of the Dominion. So tell me,  _is she a spy?_ "

"I–, you can't–," the soldier stammered, only to be shoved back roughly.

"If you or anyone here has a problem with her–" Aneril pounded a fist against her breastplate. "–you take it up with  _me!_ "

She glared around the camp, but none met her burning gaze – which was fortunate, as her impulsive chest pound had set off a series of aches that made her hunch over. The soldiers dispersed without protest, while Vareysa moved forward, guiding Aneril towards one of the camp's tents. Setting Aneril down in the corner, Vareysa helped to remove her armour, and took stock of the cuts and scrapes along her limbs. Her torso was largely untouched, save for a few dark bruises where she'd taken particularly hard knocks. Vareysa cleaned and bound her wounds, then guided her to lay on the ground, resting Aneril's head on a folded bedroll. The cub came to curl up beside Aneril, resting its head on her stomach as it gazed quietly up at her.

"Thanks," Vareysa said, smile soft. "You didn't have to, but I appreciate it."

"Mm." Aneril shifted on the ground, groaning at the aches on her body. All-too-familiar, but still uncomfortable.

"So, how did it go in town? You were gone for a while."

"Ugh, don't remind me. Bloody Sheogorath…" She let out a tired breath. "You're lucky you weren't there."

Vareysa laughed quietly, poking at her bandages. "I can tell." She tilted her head when Aneril didn't bother slapping her hands away. "That tired, huh?"

"I…need a nap," Aneril mumbled, eyes already falling shut.

"Then rest. I'll watch over you." She touched Aneril's arm, thumb stroking over her skin. "And I'll wake you for dinner, yeah?"

"Mm." Aneril drifted slowly into sleep, and before the dreams took her, she dimly missed the warmth on her arm when it moved away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm still experimenting with writing quests and stuff - main ones get more narrative, while side ones are kept succinct. I'll play around with them a little more, so do tell me if the info dump for the quests get a bit much, or the pace gets a little odd.
> 
> Funny how I never ever wanted to write any kinda novelisation fic but here I FUCKIN AM. GRAHRH


	7. Chapter 7

_It's happening again._

Vareysa sat by the dim light of their dying campfire, eyes fixed on her companion, who was starting to stir in her bedroll. She watched the minute twitches in Aneril's shoulders and hands grow sharper, more frequent, then her head tilted this way and that – an occurrence that happened often enough that it was nearly routine. Sometimes, her restlessness would end early, and she'd slip back into a restful sleep. At other times though, her dreams would keep her in its grip longer.

A faint whine emanated from her throat, and a frown briefly creased her brows. The hand on Aneril's stomach jerked up towards her chest, and Vareysa knew this wouldn't end well. But she left Aneril alone, the Altmer's fidgeting growing more forceful, fingers starting to dig into her bedroll. Her lips moved in quiet mumbles, too soft to hear, before she breathed a single syllable in Altmeris –  _'no'_.

Vareysa cocked her head, as Aneril faded back into inaudible mutters. Her movements were more agitated now, her breaths heavier and quicker. The frown was etched onto her brow, a shaky  _'please'_  falling from her lips, then a gasp as her shoulders gave a short, violent jerk. But she didn't wake.

Aneril squirmed in her bedroll, as if desperate to break free of the dream, but was unable to do so. Vareysa waited until she could take it no longer, then went to kneel beside Aneril, as her companion gave a strangled sob. She'd reached a hand out when Aneril jerked awake, eyes snapping open as she breathed an airless scream in her native tongue –  _'stop'_.

The Altmer fell back heavily onto her pillow, panting as her open eyes stared sightlessly up at the night sky.

"Hey–"

Without even a glance, Aneril jerked away from her instinctively, shaking hands scrabbling blindly at the ground. Vareysa grabbed onto her arm, getting a ragged cry in response, and forced Aneril back into the bedroll. Holding her down by the shoulder, Vareysa gripped onto her hand, fighting Aneril's efforts to shake her off.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay," Vareysa said clumsily in what little Altmeris she knew. She repeated the same few words until she'd gotten Aneril's attention, then switched to common Tamrielic. "You were just dreaming. You're safe. You're safe now."

Aneril's dazed eyes focused on her with difficulty, and she squeezed Vareysa's hand with weak, trembling fingers. She glanced around the camp in her paranoia, then back at Vareysa, before she leaned fully into her pillow. Aneril was still panting, her eyes falling shut as she pulled her hand away from Vareysa, to clutch at her chest. Her face slowly twisted into an expression of…pain? Fear? Vareysa couldn't tell, but noticed the tear slipping from the corner of her eye, before she turned over in her bedroll, back facing the Dunmer.

Aneril curled up tighter into herself, and Vareysa hesitated to leave her alone – but decided to follow the Altmer's obvious wish. Pulling the bedroll's covers up to Aneril's chest, Vareysa laid a hand briefly on her arm and gave a reassuring squeeze – getting no response at all. It was to be expected, but her worry grew a little deeper.

Then Vareysa looked around at the cub sleeping by the fire, and moved towards it. She patted it awake, getting a growled grumble in return, then more petulant huffs when she tugged at its paw insistently. When the cub refused to move, Vareysa resorted to heaving it up into her arms. The tiger whined loudly, but quieted down when it was deposited right next to Aneril.

She caught a glimpse of pale blue irises when Aneril cracked her eyes open, and Vareysa moved away quickly, eager to give her companion the space she needed.

Settling back by the fire, Vareysa watched and waited for a long while, before Aneril finally reached an arm out to hug the cub, who had curled up to sleep beside her. Vareysa sighed quietly to herself – her concern was alleviated for the time being, but now she had to fight off the curiosity rising within her. She already knew Aneril would give her no answers, and so she would think of no questions.

* * *

Aneril woke with a heavy head, a dull throb in her skull, and leaden limbs that protested when she pushed herself up from the bedroll. She sat hunched over, tousled hair covering her face, eyes screwed shut, and didn't react to Vareysa's offer of breakfast.

She felt lifeless. Her entire being was… _off_. A deep nothingness sat in her chest, beneath the scar left from the fatal stab wound that had sent her to Coldharbour.

 _Coldharbour._  A rush of hatred flooded her veins, quickly smothered by a cold, intense fear. She'd dreamt of it for the first time. Her worst nightmare always had her chained to Mannimarco's bloody altar, forced to watch as he plunged his dagger into her heart again. But last night, she didn't wake where the nightmare had always ended. The dagger bit into her chest, and suddenly she was in Coldharbour, her arms and legs held captive by sneering dremora, cold Daedric syllables slithering into her ears. She was forced to kneel on a cold obsidian floor, staring up at the horned visage of Molag Bal himself, and watched as he pulled his arm back, then plunged his clawed hand into her chest.

The pain felt almost real, and  _his eyes_. It's as if he had pierced through the dream, and peered into her very soul, as he ripped it out of her body. As if…he was aware of her.

_No. No, no, no._

Aneril took a deep, shuddering breath, and exhaled slowly. If he knew where and who she was, he wouldn't allow her to continue existing…would he?  _No_. He wouldn't care. She was just one soul among the rest…

The thought calmed her down. Yes, that feeling was just a figment of her imagination. It couldn't be real.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it back from her face. Then she paused when Vareysa came to kneel by her, holding out a square piece of compact hardtack – Aneril's preferred meal for bad mornings. She took it wordlessly, and Vareysa left her alone, going back to the campfire where she cooed back at the tiger's chuffs. There was a distinct smell of toast, but it did nothing to rouse Aneril's hunger. She took a few bites of hardtack, then grew impatient and just shoved the whole thing into her mouth, so she could start packing her belongings.

It was mechanical. She bundled up her bedroll, strapped it onto her backpack. Coiled her hair back into a military bun. Strapped on all her armour except the helmet, feeling every piece of metal weigh heavier on her as she stood. Aneril took a deep breath and let it out, looking over to find Vareysa and the cub on their feet as well, waiting for her.

She took two steps down the road, then stopped abruptly, and turned back to her companion. Aneril opened her mouth, but there was silence as she fought against the block in her throat, before she managed a rough, "Thanks."

She tried to turn back to the road quickly, but it was too late – she caught a glimpse of that crooked smile on Vareysa's lips.

* * *

Their trek up to Elden Root was mostly quiet, with only Vareysa talking to the cub when she felt bored, or when it pawed at their legs, looking to play. When they reached the capital city, Aneril approached the throne with a request for a squad of soldiers, who'd escort Conservator Daraneth from Southpoint to the city. Her request was promptly granted by the king, and Aneril hastened away from the Elden Tree, eager to hit the road again. They had little time to spare before Queen Ayrenn arrived in Elden Root for the ratification ceremony, and Aneril still had two artifacts to retrieve before then.

She met up with Vareysa at the marketplace, where the Dunmer was picking up some extra supplies, and they set off towards the northern exit of the city. They were just about to reach its guarded border, when a voice called Aneril's name in a hurry. They turned around to find a young Altmer running up to them, huffing and puffing as he bent over to catch his breath.

"Excuse me – you're Aneril, right?"

"Yes."

"Oh, thank the Divines!" He laughed between pants. "You're a very tough person to find – I've been looking for you for over a week! I have a delivery for you." He unslung the sheathed sword from his shoulders, and handed it to Aneril. "Here, this is yours. And…" Reaching into his satchel, he fished out a folded letter and a small note with it – reading the latter in a quiet mumble. "This is–, oh. A letter of inheritance from Ghorzak gro-Ulrog. I'm sorry for your loss."

Aneril's heart sank as she took the letter, staring at it blankly for a few moments. Then she found her breath and asked, "Have you been paid?"

"Ah, yes. It's covered my traveling fees, but…oh. Thanks," the courier said with a smile when she tipped him generously. "Well, gotta run. Again – you have my condolences."

Aneril stared after his retreating back, then down at the letter again. She moved off to stand by the side of the road, Vareysa and the cub following behind her, and she unfolded the letter.

_'Hey, kid._

_If you're reading this, means I bit it. And yeah yeah, I wrote letters and shit. Damn it, feeling older than ever. Anyway, I'm giving away some of my stuff in case I died, so you're getting one of them. I guess sticking with an old orc long enough will make him think of you as his own kid, huh? And take it as my thanks too – you didn't have any reason to leave the Guild with me and fight in this stupid war. But you did. Watched my back better than anyone ever did, before they transferred you to your precious Queen's guard. For that, I'm grateful. Think you kept me alive longer than I should've been._

_Since I won't be around anymore, I'll take one last chance to remind you again – you're doing your best. You always do. No matter what you believe, you're a capable person, Aneril. A great warrior. You have a good heart, and a strong backbone to go with it. You'll make something of yourself one day – just remember not to let your head overthink and second-guess yourself. I've always trusted you, believed in you. Now do me a favour, and do the same for yourself._

_Oh right, the glass sword. Province General gave it to me for my service years ago. Sharp blade, good heft, has an enchantment that strengthens the glass and imbues it with an energy to cut much better. But it's too hoity-toity, Altmer-elegant for me. Perfect for you though. If the war's over when you get this – keep it, and rise through the Guild's ranks with it. If the war's still on, then use it to survive, and return home safe._

_Live a good long life, kid. Then we'll swap stories over drinks after._

_Ghorzak gro-Ulrog'_

Aneril swallowed hard, her face scrunching up for a second, before smoothing over into a placid mask. She folded the letter and slipped it into her backpack. Gripping onto the glass sword's hilt, she hesitated for a long moment, then chose to leave it in the scabbard.

"Aneril?" Vareysa asked tentatively, breaking the silence as Aneril slung the sword over her shoulders, so it rested between her back and bag. "You alright?"

Well-aware of her own stiffness, Aneril nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Two artifacts were to be retrieved for the Orrery: Rajhin's Mantle, and the Heart of Anumaril. Since the Mantle was rumoured to be at the Falinesti Winter Site, the closer location of the two, Aneril decided to travel farther west from the capital city to reach it first.

After three days of travel, they reached the sprawling Ayleid ruins, only to discover that trouble had found the site first. The very first sign was the conspicuous presence of frost trolls lumbering about the site, and they skirted around the big brutes to find an isolated camp by the edge of the ruins, set up by the Falinesti Faithful – protectors of the holy site, who await the return of the moving tree city, Falinesti.

Among them was a Bosmer named Brelor, who recounted recent events with an urgency borne of keen fear. The renowned Altmer General Endare, commander of the Jade Dragoons, had descended upon the ruins with her soldiers, and forced the Faithful into slave labour, digging up the grounds of the ruins in search of a Khajiiti relic – Rajhin's Mantle. He expressed concern about the general's misuse of the relic, Aneril shared her need to retrieve the Mantle for the Queen, and they agreed to help each other reach the relic before Endare.

But first, they'd have to find out  _why_  Endare was looking for the relic of a Khajiiti trickster god in a Bosmer holy site, of all places. So they sought the site's Welkynd stones as Brelor suggested – stones that held the memories of the Falinesti tree. At each of the three stones, they witnessed ghostly visions of conversations from the past, between a Khajiit and the Altmer woman he relentlessly pursued – Lady Nairume.

Eventually, this tale became clear. The mysterious Khajiit was one of the seven shadows of the god Rajhin, and when his pursuit of Nairume had failed, he imprisoned her within a frozen vault beneath the Falinesti site.

Brelor had an epiphany – General Endare must have uncovered the same frozen vault, sure that she'd find Rajhin's Mantle within. So their path was clear – to delve into the frozen vault, and stop Endare before she reached the Mantle. Aneril opted to enter the vault with Vareysa alone, since Brelor lacked any combat skills, and they made him find his way back to camp with the tiger cub in tow.

When they reached the vault's entrance, they were surprised to find the corpses of several frost trolls lying on the ground, surrounding a woman made of ice – who bore the very same features of Lady Nairume. Aneril asked after her identity, and her suspicions were confirmed – as well as General Endare's passage into the vault.

"You are not the first to seek Rajhin's Mantle," Nairume said. "General Endare broke through my prison in search of the same. I will aid you in seeking the Mantle, but only if you swear to free me."

Aneril tilted her head. "You need my help to break free?"

"Rajhin's Mantle is the key to my prison beneath the Falinesti Winter Site. If I but touch its hem, it will steal all my hatred for Rajhin's Shadow and fill the void with love." Nairume's lips twisted in a sneer. "I'll make lute strings of his innards, first. Only another may safely free me."

"And I will," Aneril assured her. "Just tell me where to go."

Satisfied, the icy form of Nairume disappeared along with the frozen barrier blocking the stone doors, and they were granted access into the vault. Deep within its wintry interior, they found Lady Nairume in the living flesh, and the imprisoned Altmer volunteered to join their venture through the vault's long passageways. There were numerous frost trolls along the way, but with Nairume's aid in strategically freezing their foes, they were able to make short work of the beasts, and moved along at a swift pace.

Their search for General Endare finally led them up a steep flight of slippery stone steps towards the inner vault, and Aneril bade Nairume stay outside while she settled matters with the General. The Lady made no protest, and Aneril entered the inner chamber with Vareysa by her side.

The first thing that greeted them when their boots crunched on ice by the door, was a harsh bark from General Endare herself. "You'll never take it from me!"

Endare hefted her sword and shield, glaring at them with no small amount of paranoia in her eyes. "Who are you? What are you doing here? Out with it!"

"I'm here for Rajhin's Mantle," Aneril said simply.

"You?" A derisive laugh. "I'm a decorated general of the Aldmeri Dominion, a hero to my people. Who better qualified to wield the power of a god?" Endare rolled her shoulders, upon which rested the Mantle itself – a surprisingly discrete thing, woven of dark leather and smooth fur.

Aneril kept quiet, regarding the general with caution, as she pondered her next move. "Queen Ayrenn needs it for her ratification ceremony."

" _I_  found Rajhin's Mantle. Why should Queen Ayrenn be the one to wear it? I've been fighting since before she was born!"

"So have we," Vareysa scoffed under her breath, but not quietly enough – the General's glare whipped over to her, and Endare growled as she took an imposing step towards the Dunmer.

"You dare–"

" _General_." Aneril quickly put herself between them, holding her free hand up. "Please. The Mantle is affecting you – can't you see it? You're a Dominion general. You're stronger than this. Snap out of it."

"I–" Endare wavered, glancing down at the Mantle. "We were overrun. I thought to use its power to slay our foes, but I…couldn't stop. I killed my own soldiers." Fear trickled into her gaze. "I can feel it, bringing my shadow to life. You must stop me, no matter the cost."

"I will," Aneril said steadily, taking a tentative step towards her. "Now please, if you will give me the Mantle–" She threw herself back just as a blade slashed the air where she'd stood.

"No!" Endare held her sword up again, breathing a short, hysterical laugh. "You're trying to trick me. Trick the trickster god… _ha_. I can see through your lies. I won't give it to you, or anyone! You'll fall to Rajhin's Shadow! "

Endare's shadow rose from the ground – a dark, perfect copy of the general herself. Aneril felt the mute  _crack_  of Vareysa's teleport spell behind her. In an instant, Vareysa appeared by the newly-risen shadow, and drew her blade across its neck, causing the shadow to dissipate and reform at Endare's feet. But the general seemed unperturbed, merely barking a laugh as her shadow rose again. Aneril conjured a shield on her left arm, and charged at the doppelganger while Endare engaged Vareysa in combat.

It was a decision Aneril regretted. While she crossed swords with the shadow, Vareysa was steadily being overwhelmed by Endare. Armed with only her daggers, Vareysa found herself at a severe disadvantage as she fought the war-hardened veteran, struggling against the heavy blows of both sword and shield. Each time she tried to maneuver out of a tight spot, Endare would predict her movement and foil her escape attempts.

Aneril was faring better than Vareysa, as she was more familiar with the Dominion-trained fighting style. And she had managed to drive a sword through the shadow's heart, when she heard Vareysa give a rough cry.

She looked over to find Vareysa staggering back, after receiving a deep sword slash across her left arm, and had the dagger kicked out of her hand. Before Aneril or Vareysa could react, Endare lunged forward with her shield, bashing squarely into Vareysa's torso. The Dunmer bent over, breath expelled from her mouth in a visible mist, and as she straightened herself, Endare's shield rammed into the side of her head.  _Hard_.

Vareysa was propelled back, and her head cracked against the rock wall, before she fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Vareysa–!" Aneril had started sprinting towards the Dunmer, when Endare turned on her – along with a reformed shadow. She lifted her shield, holding her sword arm against it for support; but even then, the combined blows from the General and her shadow threw her back a few paces, knocking the air clean from her lungs. But Aneril managed to land on both feet, shoulders hunching as she tried to catch her breath.

Endare didn't push forward, and merely observed Aneril with a slight tilt of her head. Then she lowered herself into a ready stance, held her shield up, and knocked her sword loudly against it – an open invitation for Aneril to make the starting move.

Aneril lowered her head, looking down at the ground as she took ragged breaths through a parched throat. At the second knock of sword on shield, she charged forth without warning, gathering a fistful of flames in her left hand, and threw a fiery whip at the general. Endare hadn't anticipated the sudden use of magic, and she was forced to leap back to avoid the blow – just as Aneril intended.

The younger soldier raised her shield to block the shadow's attack, and managed to gain a bit of ground, ramming the shadow as far away as possible. Then she spun on her heel, lashing at the ground beneath Endare's feet with the flame whip, forcing the general to hop back awkwardly to avoid it. She didn't give Endare time to think – magicka already gathered in her mouth, Aneril let loose a breath of dragonflame, forcing the general to leap aside. But Endare was just a little too slow, and the side of her armour was burnt black.

Aneril didn't wait – she pivoted again to meet the shadow's sword slash with her shield, then pulled another dragonknight trick from her sleeve. With magicka burning in her fingers, she brought her sword hand across the shadow, slashing through its dark form with fiery claws. The shadow was stunned for a moment, giving Aneril ample time to drive her sword through its chest, causing it to disintegrate again. This time, though, it didn't return.

Sweat trickled down Aneril's face as she turned back to face the general. Endare watched her with dangerous smile, giving a flat chuckle, and raised her shield up once more. So Endare had decided to face her one-on-one, but Aneril could take no relief in it – she was slowing down, tired out by her trek around the ruins above, and through the vaults below. The general had incredible strength, and Aneril doubted she could withstand Endare's blows for much longer.

She had to end this,  _fast_.

Aneril lunged forward and sidestepped at the last second – but Endare had seen through her feint, and spun neatly on her feet, delivering a clean cut over Aneril's sword arm. She kicked at the back of Aneril's knee, sending her to the floor, but Aneril rolled out of the way before her head was cleaved from her shoulders. Then she charged again, and again, and again – only to have the same pattern repeat itself. General Endare's skill and experience far outweighed any ingenuity and boldness Aneril possessed – each surprise move the younger pulled, the older managed to counter it and gift a new wound upon her foe. Every spell that Aneril threw out splashed harmlessly over Endare's well-timed magical wards.

Aneril suffered numerous strategic slashes to her body – on her arms and legs to slow her down, and a long cut across the cheek from her close brush with Endare's blade. Her head was spinning when Endare dived towards her, swinging her sword so mercilessly against Aneril's that its steel was chipped, and Aneril's weapon was knocked clean from her hand. Then Aneril brought up her shield, and was forced to her knees under the impact of Endare's magically-bolstered blow. Her shield cracked as the gathered magicka started to dissipate, then gave way completely under Endare's next ruthless attack, allowing the blade to bite through Aneril's steel bracer and into her forearm.

Pushing herself to her feet, Aneril started pulling away before Endare could sever her hand – only to receive a heavy shield bash to her head. Her vision blacked out, and when she came to, she was lying flat on the ground, staring blearily up at Endare's stoic expression, with the tip of a sword resting against her throat.

"You fight well, young soldier," Endare said. "It's a pity you will die here." She had dug her sword into the skin of Aneril's neck, when a shout rang out through the vault.

"Hey, you  _jade slut!_ "

Taken aback, Endare spun around, only to see a dagger fly through the air and sink deep into her forehead. General Endare gave a violent twitch, teetering on both feet, before the sword dropped from her hand, and she toppled over to the ground.

"Oh, thank  _fuck_ ," Vareysa groaned.

Aneril looked over in time to watch Vareysa slump heavily back to the floor. Then she glanced at Endare to make sure she was truly dead, before allowing her eyes to fall shut. Aneril panted in ragged breaths, feeling hot sweat grow cold on her skin from the vault's frigid air.

When she could breathe normally again, Aneril muttered, "'Jade slut'?"

An exhausted laugh. "I was panicking, alright?"

"Obviously," Aneril huffed, a smile growing on her face, before she was distracted by a trickle on her cheek.

_Right. Bleeding._

Gathering what magicka she had left, Aneril reached sluggishly for her wounds, and healed what she could to stop the bleeding. Then she pushed herself shakily onto her hands and knees, and dragged herself over to Vareysa. Grasping the Dunmer's jaw, Aneril turned her head to check for wounds, then healed the deep, bleeding cut on her temple. She closed a few of Vareysa's other wounds, then hauled the Dunmer to her feet, getting a whine from her companion.

"You alright?" Aneril asked.

"World's spinning," Vareysa uttered, leaning heavily onto her.

"Same here."

They dragged their feet over to the exit, and Aneril had laid a hand on the stone door when she remembered.

"Wait – we forgot to take the stupid Mantle."

* * *

Vareysa made Aneril trudge back to take the Mantle by herself, and they traded a few half-hearted barbs over it, but things went smoothly after that. With the Mantle in hand, Aneril was able to free Nairume from her prison, and they returned to the camp of the Falinesti Faithful. Without Nairume blocking the entrance to the frozen vault anymore, the frost trolls returned to their icy habitat where they belonged, and the mages of the Faithful erected strong barriers over the vault's doors, sealing the trolls within.

The mages tended to Aneril and Vareysa as well, healing their wounds and giving them a tent to rest in, and they crashed into their bedrolls gratefully. When Aneril woke at night, her body was still tired, but felt stronger than before. She nipped out to have some stew by the fire with Vareysa and the cub, then retreated into her tent again, eager to get some privacy after a day of…surviving.

_'Since I won't be around anymore, I'll take one last chance to remind you again – you're doing your best. You always do. No matter what you believe, you're a capable person, Aneril. A great warrior. You have a good heart, and a strong backbone to go with it.'_

Aneril jumped when someone came through the tent flaps, and she folded the letter instinctively as she looked up, meeting Vareysa's amused gaze. Thankfully, the Dunmer opted not to say anything, and offered one of the two mugs she held.

"It's milk. And no," she added when Aneril wrinkled her nose, thinking of the Bosmer's fermented pig milk. "It's not jagga. This is goat's milk."

"Thanks," Aneril muttered, accepting the mug. Then she jerked her head back from the touch on her forehead, and frowned up at Vareysa.

"Just checking." Vareysa held up her hand. "You still look kinda pale."

Sighing to herself, Aneril took a sip of milk, flipping the letter open as Vareysa settled in the bedroll next to hers.

"So," Vareysa drawled, nodding at the parchment. "Who…"

"My mentor from the guild. We enlisted in the army together."

"Huh. But…the courier mentioned an Orc's name."

"He joined the Dominion's mercenary band," Aneril explained. "And I was in that outfit with him for a while, before I got transferred to the Queensguard."

"Why didn't he go to the Daggerfall Covenant?"

"I don't know. Only ever said he refused to return to Orisinium." Aneril shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. Old bastard's dead."

Vareysa watched quietly as Aneril folded the letter again, and threw it none-too-gently onto her backpack. With a small smile, Vareysa said, "It's okay to grieve, you know. You don't have to keep it in."

"He died how he wanted."

"Doesn't mean you don't miss him."

A lump rose to Aneril's throat, but she forced it back down. Lifting the mug to her lips, she took a long draught as the tiger cub strutted into the tent with a thick branch in its mouth. It laid the branch on the ground, then flopped down with it, clawing and gnawing at the wood, exercising his little claws and fangs.

Aneril watched him blankly for a while, before her gaze drifted to the glass sword lying beside her bedroll, next to her backpack. She reached out to touch the smooth, sturdy leather of the scabbard, trailing her fingertips along its length, until she met the cool metal of the winged crossguard. She paused then, fingers twitching up to graze over the hilt, but she curled them back into a fist.

Her throat tightened, and she pulled her hand away, clutching at her mug again as she took one gulp of milk, then another. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, staying still until she'd forced her mind to go coldly, peacefully blank.


	8. Chapter 8

"Why are you getting a new sword?"

"Because I want one."

"Alright, let me rephrase that," Vareysa sighed, as Aneril picked up a sword of high elven make. "Why are you buying a new sword when you have the glass sword?"

"I don't want to use the glass sword," Aneril replied, swinging the steel sword experimentally before she replaced it in the merchant's collection. "Not yet, anyway."

"It's a good blade."

"And I'm saving it for a rainy day."

"Seriously?"

Aneril glanced over to watch Vareysa throw up her hands, then peruse the Khajiit merchant's goods herself. They'd decided to rest and recuperate at the Falinesti Faithful's camp for a day, and the merchant's convenient presence allowed them to stock up on supplies, or replace damaged gear. While the Khajiit had an ample store of food supplies and tools that suited the Faithful's needs, he had a limited stock of combat gear on hand, but they'd have to make do.

As Vareysa pondered over a pair of leather bracers, Aneril picked up another sword – this one of Bosmer design, with a single-edged blade that tapered and curved towards the tip. She swung this blade around as well, testing its heft and balance, and was satisfied – not to mention curious, as she'd never wielded any blade that wasn't a longsword before.

Aneril paid for her acquisition, and was sheathing the sword in its scabbard when Vareysa's gaze jerked up from the bracers she held.

"Cubby!" Vareysa barked, and the tiger froze in place – caught red-handed with its paw on a hunk of meat lying on the merchant's short table. It looked over at Vareysa with round eyes…that almost seemed purposefully innocent. "No! We told you, no taking food from people."

It whined in protest, and extended its claws into the meat.

"Cubby," Aneril said calmly, attracting the cub's attention. " _No_."

The cub gave a long growl, but when neither of his caretakers budged, he slunk back to the ground in defeat. He felt a little disgruntled too, judging by the way he padded over but didn't bother rubbing himself against either of them.

"What are we going to do with you?" Aneril sighed, bending down to scratch behind his ears, and got a snort in return.

"Here," the Khajiit merchant said, holding out the piece of meat that the cub had pawed at. "Have it at half price. For what you've done for the Faithful…and my business."

Aneril had to restrain another sigh at the merchant's playful wink, and after a glance down at the cub's longing gaze, paid for the meat as well. "Thank you," she said, while she offered the cub's much-coveted meal, and had it snatched right out of her hand.

"Ah, such a lively little one," the merchant mused, peering down at the cub. "Hm. You know, if you're going to travel around with the cub, you might want a little…insurance, so to speak." He reached down behind his makeshift counter, and pulled out a leather harness. "Here, this one recommends an adjustable leather harness, to show that the cub already belongs to you. Perfect for picking the cub up easily too, or to attach anything to the little one should you need to."

"Um." Aneril looked at the harness uncertainly, then shared a glance with Vareysa – both of them well-aware that the merchant would continue reaching into their wallets if they stayed any longer. "Well–"

"I'll take it." Vareysa stepped in. "Seems like a useful thing to have, anyway."

Aneril bit down a protest as Vareysa paid for the harness, and was more than eager to leave when her companion gave her a tug on the arm. They hurried away from the merchant's stall with the cub following behind them, and caught a few sympathetic looks from some of the Faithful, who'd no doubt been gouged by the merchant as well.

* * *

The next morning, they set off from camp towards the Reliquary of Stars, an Ayleid ruin where a Mages Guild expedition was currently searching for the Heart of Anumaril. Since this was the last item to retrieve for the Queen's ceremony, Aneril had set off eagerly on their half-day's hike, hoping to complete her task as soon as possible.

When they reached the ruins, they were surprised to find books floating within its entrance chamber, but were assured by the mages that they were mostly harmless – save for the few times the books had knocked into heads. A mere annoyance, to be sure – and Aneril left it alone to focus on the task at hand. She spoke with Laranalda, the mage leading the expedition, and learnt that the Guild had accidentally tripped the protective wards set within the ruins. Two of her assistants went missing after that, trying to delve deeper into the ruins to ascertain the Heart's location, but she hadn't been able to search for them without reinforcements from the Guild.

Lucky for her, Aneril had all the aid she needed – volunteering to look for her assistants, and the Heart of Anumaril along the way. So they left the cub behind with Laranalda, and delved into the ruins with weapons in hand. Behelir was the first assistant they looked for, and they found the Bosmer mage in the Hall of Wisdom, trapped within a sealed magical barrier powered by four Ayleid light sconces around him. The key to his cage, Behelir guessed, might be the strange creatures that had appeared when he'd set off this trap. Watchers, they were called, creatures covered in eyes and tentacles – and Aneril had to extract one of their eyes, which would help to refocus the Ayleid light trap and free its captive.

A task that even  _sounded_  gross in itself, but Aneril had little choice – she ventured down the ruin's halls with Vareysa, dispatching the smattering of Daedra roaming around, until they finally came upon a large Watcher floating over the dirty floors lazily…before it spotted them. Despite its paralysing magics, they were able to overwhelm the single creature between them easily, and Aneril took care to drive her sword through its round body, where she wouldn't damage the largest eyeball in its being. It fell to the floor with a wet  _splat_ , and Aneril knelt down with it, already cringing at what she was to do.

She worked her new blade around the socket, sawing the sharpened tip back and forth through the muscles beneath. Then she handed her bloody sword to Vareysa, and dug into the socket with her gauntleted hands, yanking the eyeball out with a disgusting  _pop_.

"Ew," Vareysa offered in support.

"Don't start," Aneril grimaced, holding the large eyeball farther away from herself. She double-timed back to Behelir, and with some magic, guided the dark residual energy from the Watcher's eye to the Ayleid light sconces, successfully deactivating each one before she dropped the eyeball in a hurry. She took her sword back from Vareysa, passing an eye over the black bloodstains – it was going to be a pain to clean off, and Aneril wasn't looking forward to it.

Not that she had the luxury at the moment. With Behelir freed, they headed to the largest chamber in the ruins, called the Flesh Gardens, where they found the second assistant as a…statue? Aneril frowned at Tedryni's state, and gripped her sword a little tighter when she noticed the ghostly form of a dremora sitting behind the statue. Ukaezai was the dremora's name, and she was the 'caretaker' of the ruins – preserving all its scrolls, books…and the very Ayleids who'd bound her into their service.

Aneril passed a wary eye over the Ayleid statues scattered around the chamber, and inquired the seemingly amiable dremora even further. But it became obvious that Ukaezai saw them as playthings – revealing that she'd hidden Tedryni's soul in one of the chests in the Gardens, but they'd have to find it themselves…and fight off the skeletons and flesh atronachs loping about as well.

The dremora's form vanished then, leaving them to their work. For this, Aneril had to exert little energy, as Vareysa volunteered to search for the soul – without alerting the monsters. So Aneril hung back with Tedryni's statue and watched as Vareysa cast her invisibility spell, then snuck quietly around the Gardens. A few chests seemed to open on their own, until one lid was lifted – revealing a bluish glow that attracted the attention of one flesh atronach.

Aneril moved to the edge of the platform she stood on, waiting for Vareysa to run back with the soul in hand, invisibility wearing off along the way. When she'd led the lumbering atronach back, Aneril lunged forward and drove her blade through its thick thigh, sending it to the ground as she pulled the sword through. She lashed at its arm with a flame whip when it tried to get up, then drove her sword through its skull, ending the battle as quickly as it'd started.

"Nice one," Vareysa said, as Aneril let out a breath and walked back to the statue.

"Let's get this over with."

Vareysa let the soul fuse into Tedryni's statue, a blue glow swirling about the stony form, before it fell away to reveal a Dunmer mage in the flesh and blood. Tedryni was disoriented, and Aneril had to clutch at his arm, guiding him all the way back to the mages' camp. Laranalda greeted their return with delight, and bade the two take a short break, while she tended to her assistants.

So they gulped water from their canteens and played with the tiger cub for a while, before Laranalda came over. She'd managed to locate the Heart of Anumaril – which was supposedly in the Hall of Might – and sent Behelir along to guide them into the ruins.

They encountered more skeletons and flesh atronachs in the Hall of Might, but Behelir's magical aid made their exploration much smoother, and soon they reached the last chamber in the Hall. There was an open bookshelf with several books missing, and Behelir puzzled that it might be some kind of lock mechanism. Together, they retrieved the three books from the corners of the chamber, and figured out the right sequence to slot the books in. When the heavy shelf slid aside to reveal a secret chamber behind, Behelir gave an unholy screech of laughter.

Before Aneril or Vareysa could catch him, he sprinted towards the middle of the chamber, where the red Heart sat on a pedestal. Behelir cast a spell to absorb the heart's power, then turned around to fix them with a crimson-glowing gaze, and taunted them with Ukaezai's voice.

"You're possessed–," was all Aneril could say, before Behelir sprinted off again – towards the corridor ahead, with no regard for the spike traps that littered the floor. Aneril's heart nearly stopped when he leapt over the traps recklessly, and managed to clear it just before the sharp spikes cut the air. As Aneril hesitated, she felt a mute crack beside her, and Vareysa appeared across from Aneril,  _past_  the spike traps.

"Hey, hey–!" Aneril shouted as Vareysa gave Behelir chase without a second glance back. "Damn it, you  _asshole!_  At least bring me along!"

Only the echo of her own voice answered her, and Aneril gave a cry of exasperation, forced to pace the floor while the spikes retracted slowly back into the ground. She threw herself over the trap the first chance she got, adrenaline pumping when she heard the spikes slice the space behind her. Aneril ran down the corridor, picking her away past the atronach corpses and scattered bones, until she reached the gates at the end – that led right to the entrance chamber, where Vareysa was already waiting with Laranalda.

The Dunmer smiled apologetically when Aneril squinted at her, but any argument was forgotten when she learnt Behelir had run past the two, heading right into the ruin's vault. She made Laranalda stay back in case something went wrong, then set off in pursuit with Vareysa, the pair running down the stone steps and barging into the vault – where they found Behelir's dead body lying on an altar, while Ukaezai's incorporeal form performed a ritual beside him.

They started to advance upon her, but Ukaezai completed the ritual just then, emitting a strong magical shockwave that caused the chamber to start collapsing around them. Chunks of stone crashed to the floor, and Aneril quickly summoned a magical barrier as she grabbed Vareysa, yanking the Dunmer close and forcing her to the ground, shielding Vareysa with her own body in case the barrier didn't hold. Aneril felt cracks starting to split her barrier when the tremors mercifully ended, and the chamber had gone still again, with dust clouds still settling on ruined stone.

The pair stood, patting themselves off as Aneril went to retrieve the Heart of Anumaril that Ukaezai had left on the altar – the blood red crystal was now inert, with no sign of the magicka that had swirled within it before. Realising that Ukaezai must've had stolen the power from Behelir's now-discorporate body, they ran down the long passageway leading from the chamber in chase, to where Ukaezai awaited them in the next room.

The dremora wore a cruel grin as she summoned her greatsword, and engaged them in battle. They fell back into routine – Aneril charging and keeping their foe's attention, while Vareysa nicked away at her in opportunistic strikes. And with each serious blow they dealt to Ukaezai, the Heart in Aneril's hand drew more and more of the dremora's stolen essence away, until she was left kneeling on the floor, powerless to stop Aneril's slash across her throat.

They didn't stay to watch the dremora's body disintegrate to dust, and instead made their way back to Laranalda, who was waiting for them in a nervous wreck. But her fear gave way to wonder when Aneril held out the Heart to her, and she took it reverently in her hands, promising to transport it safely back to Elden Root, where it would be used for the ratification ceremony.

Mission accomplished, Aneril and Vareysa crashed in the corner of the entrance chamber, which they'd claimed as their resting spot. Neither had much in them left to play with the cub when it gamboled over to them, and they let it paw and swipe at their armours while they caught their breath.

"I hate your job," Vareysa groaned.

"I hate  _your_  job," Aneril muttered.

* * *

As it turned out, they didn't have to trek all the way back to Elden Root. With help from her fellow mages, Laranalda established a portal to the capital's Guild chapter, and they were back in the Elden Tree in a blink of the eye. Aneril reported to the Orrery first, where Conservator Daraneth and Meleras were studying the Ayleid device. They were immensely relieved at her arrival with the two artifacts – it seemed Queen Ayrenn had arrived just that morning, and they were worried about having to delay her for too long.

Still, they took the artifacts that Aneril handed to them, and said they needed one day to ensure the artifacts and device would work together. So Aneril left to report her success to King Camoran, who sent her off for a well-needed rest.

She reported to the Orrery the next morning, only to learn that the ceremony had been delayed by Ayrenn herself, who had been besieged by diplomatic concerns the instant she arrived in Elden Root. Aneril spent her free time wandering about the city until it was late afternoon, when she was instructed to return.

Back in the Orrery, Aneril came across Queen Ayrenn first, who was speaking with her brother in an alcove outside the main chamber. Though Aneril had tried to pass by them without interrupting, the Queen noticed and waved her over.

"Prince Naemon says you're to thank for ensuring the ratification ceremony will happen without delay," Ayrenn said.

Aneril was quietly surprised, glancing over at Naemon – who stood with a placid expression. "It was no trouble, Your Majesty."

"Nonsense," Ayrenn replied. "It was a great deal of trouble. It's not something one forgets, especially when one is queen."

"It is merely my duty."

"Now, where have I heard that before?" Ayrenn mused with a short laugh, then gestured towards the main chamber. "Go on. I'll be along shortly."

Aneril saluted, and made her way down to the guarded entrance to the chamber, with Vareysa at her side. They walked down the steps towards the Ayleid device and, seeing that Daraneth and Meleras were busy having a discussion by themselves, she took her place at the dais before the device to wait.

Only one other Altmer stood at the dais with them, and Aneril couldn't help but take a second glance at her. The Altmer's uniform was unique, made of thick cloth and leather, with scarves hanging from her shoulders. At first glance, her status was ambiguous – but the emblem she wore on a thin rope necklace, and the distinctive winged pauldron on her shoulder marked her as the commander of the Fury's Wings, a renowned division of dragoons in the Queen's army.

Battlereeve Sielaire – a name Aneril recalled from her time in the army. A notably young Altmer who'd caught much attention with her swift ascension to that prestigious rank. Aneril had never bothered with the unflattering gossip about the battlereeve, as she never cared for the politics; but now, as she stood beside the commander who radiated a latent,  _intense_  magical aura, Aneril guessed many of the rumours weren't true.

Green eyes turned to regard her, and Aneril nearly jumped at the attention – realising that she'd been staring.

Sielaire's gaze moved to rest on Vareysa briefly, before returning to Aneril. "I recognise you," she said, after a moment of silent scrutiny. "You were part of a Fighters Guild chapter in Auridon."

"Yes, ma'am. Skywatch." Aneril cocked her head curiously, searching through her memories. "You made a brief visit there, if I remember correctly?"

Sielaire nodded. "Yes, very briefly. On…unpleasant business. I left the Guild shortly after that." She clasped her hands behind her back, giving Aneril a once-over. "It seems you did, as well."

"I–, yes. But only recently. The Dominion needs all the help it can get, to bring a quick end to this war."

"Indeed," Sielaire replied, her gaze turned appraising, before their attention was drawn to the Queen walking down the steps with her brother.

"It's magnificent," Ayrenn breathed as she joined them on the dais, clasping briefly at Sielaire's elbow.

Then Aneril was distracted by an insistent movement beside the Ayleid device – Conservator Daraneth waved at her, then beckoned her over. Aneril approached her, and listened to Daraneth's explanation of how the ceremony would go, with Aneril's help.

"The first thing you'll need is to take up Rajhin's Mantle.  _'A god's hands move the Orrery'_ , goes the translation," Daraneth said. "But that's a load of boarslop. You simply need to be in three places at once. The Mantle should allow you to do that."

"Is it safe?" Aneril asked, looking hesitantly at the Mantle Daraneth was offering her. "It drove General Endare mad."

"Oh, you'll be alright. That mage…Brelor, was it? He assured me you'd be safe if you wore it for no longer than ninety minutes. Or was it nine?" Daraneth tapped her at chin, before waving extraneous thoughts away. "No matter. The ceremony will take five, maybe six minutes. You'll be fine."

"Alright…" Aneril still wasn't fully convinced, but took the Mantle anyway, and draped it over her shoulders. She braced herself, but there was no onslaught of insanity to fight off, to her relief.

"Now, approach the pillars on either side of the Orrery. Activate each in turn, while keeping one thought in mind: when you wear Rajhin's Mantle, you'll never be held in place."

Aneril nodded, and approached the first short pillar. She laid a hand on cool stone, channeling magicka into it – and was shocked when a sudden, crushing force encased her in a tight prison. Panic flooded her veins as she hunched over, but she remembered Daraneth's advice –  _when you wear Rajhin's Mantle, you'll never be held in place_.

She seized onto that thought, and the Mantle's weight on her shoulders turned…comforting – the prison's pressure around her fell away, and she stepped back to find her own shadow still in place, with one hand on the pillar. Then Aneril went to the other side and did the same – leaving her second shadow to keep the pillar activated, before going back to Daraneth, who seemed quite excited at the device's partial activation.

"What next?" Aneril asked.

"Here, take the Heart of Anumaril." Daraneth handed the red crystal to her. "Place it in the pillar next to our royal observers, and that should do it! The Queen will then be able to use the device."

Cradling the Heart carefully in her hands, Aneril returned to the dais, and placed the crystal atop the sconce of the short pillar. It shone with a brilliant light, and the Orrery sprang to life – three staircases emerged from the ground around the Ayleid device, and a central pillar extended into a platform connecting the stairs together.

Aneril stared at the device's glowing orb in wonder, but she was distracted when Prince Naemon walked towards the device first.

"And now the Ayleid deathtrap will tell us if we have an emperor in our midst. Truly, a momentous day!"

"Naemon, now is not the time," Ayrenn said.

Naemon turned back to them, with a grim smile on his face that made Aneril tense up. "Ayrenn, there's always time to protect you from yourself. For how could I let you risk your life in this contraption without testing it first, dear sister?"

In an instant, dark energy swirled about Naemon's hands, and he cast a binding spell that sent everyone within the chamber to their knees. Aneril struggled under the oppressive weight of the magic, as Naemon climbed the steps to the device. He laid a hand on it and disappeared without a trace, though his entranced voice echoed throughout the chamber, as he told of a wondrous vision of the White-Gold tower – before his tone twisted into panic and agony.

A scream, and in a burst of light, an ogrim appeared before them, its large mouth blabbering Altmeris clumsily, "No! You tricked me, sister! It's your fault! Vermin, all of you! I'll kill you all!"

Urgency flared in Aneril as the ogrim lowered itself, preparing to charge towards the Queen. But the Mantle shrouded her in that gentle, uplifting warmth again, and Aneril burst out of her binding spell – meeting Naemon's charge head-on with her conjured shield. Both of them were knocked back by the force of the collision, though Aneril was propelled a larger distance than the heavy ogrim. Nevertheless, she hefted her shield and drew her sword, pointing it tentatively at the…thing that was the Altmer prince.

She cast a glance back at Queen Ayrenn – who lifted her head to look at Aneril and, with great effort, nodded.

The ogrim charged at Aneril, who sidestepped its advance at the last second, drawing her blade across its side. Warm blood splattered onto her armour, and she didn't wait to plunge her sword into its back. The ogrim howled and swatted at her, throwing Aneril back a few paces. She landed on her feet, and took the initiative this time, lashing at the ogrim three times with her flame whip, causing it to roar in anger. As it ran towards her, she slashed across its knee with the fiery claws gathered about her hands, biting through the ogrim's flesh and bone.

It stumbled and fell to its knees, astonishment clear in its beady black eyes, as Aneril delivered a deep slash across its thick throat. More blood spurted onto her armour, but she didn't stop – as the ogrim reached up with its meaty hand, she plunged her blade deep into its heart. Aneril looked up at the ogrim's eyes, and was startled by the golden Altmer irises gazing blankly back at her. She yanked out her sword and stepped back – almost in fear – letting the ogrim keel over to the ground.

As the binding spell was lifted and the rest rose from their captive positions, Aneril watched the ogrim's body morph back into Prince Naemon's form – with bleeding red gashes over his throat and body, and a stab wound in his chest. Fear started trickling into her chest, turning it icy cool as Aneril walked to where Ayrenn stood, and fell to one knee before her Queen.

"Why?" Ayrenn said, voice so placid it might've been catatonic.

"I had little choice, Your Majesty," Aneril breathed as reality settled into her. She'd killed the prince. The  _prince_. "I will accept my punishment for this–"

"What? No." Ayrenn reached down to grasp Aneril's arms, and guided her back to her feet. The Queen stared at her wordlessly for a few moments, gaze flickering over to her dead brother, then back to Aneril again. She looked almost…lost. "I just… Why would Naemon do this?"

The grip on Aneril's arms tightened, and she asked tentatively, "What did the Orrery do to him?"

"What the legend says. It revealed the person within. As it will do to me." Ayrenn paused, took a breath, and let go of Aneril. She waved Sielaire over, and clasped the battlereeve's arm instead. "I will do what I have to – I will enter the Orrery, as I swore to the people of the Dominion. I must learn whether I'm fit to lead them. And if I'm not…" She shook Sielaire's arm once – a command. "If I'm changed, as my brother was… I can't become a danger to the people I've sworn to lead. Do you understand me?"

Sielaire nodded, and Ayrenn turned her gaze to Aneril.

"Yes, Your Grace." Aneril bowed her head.

They watched the Queen ascend the stairs as her brother had, and Aneril felt no small amount of trepidation when Ayrenn laid a hand on the Orrery. She vanished as quickly as her brother, but all was silent this time, until a flash of light before them revealed the Queen again – as herself. The ratification ceremony was successful – Queen Ayrenn had been deemed fit to lead.

But there was little cheer. Ayrenn confirmed her vision of a Dominion of peace under her reign, before she turned back to Naemon's body, being tended to by his personal aide, Vicereeve Pelidil. She instructed the Vicereeve in Naemon's funeral arrangements, and for news to spread that he died in service of the Dominion. Ayrenn stood stiffly by her brother's side for a few long moments, before she walked away with a dark look in her eyes, and Battlereeve Sielaire in tow.

Aneril watched them go, feeling a little concern for the monarch, when she heard Vareysa chuckle quietly to herself.

"Can those two be any more obvious," she murmured, getting a curious look from Aneril. Vareysa nodded at the Queen and Battlereeve's retreating backs, but Aneril was still mystified. So Vareysa raised two of her fingers, and crossed them together. She wiggled her brows, and Aneril's eyes grew round.

" _No_ ," Aneril whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Yes," Vareysa sang under her breath. "It's so obvious you could see it from across the Abecean Sea."

"You–, you're not–" Aneril glanced back at the prince's body, then grabbed Vareysa's arm, and tugged her up the stairs. "This is  _not_ the time or place."

"Hey, should I tail them, see if anything happens–?"

" _No!_ "

* * *

With the Queen in mourning the next day, Aneril was left with no orders to act upon. And Razum-dar – who'd arrived just the night before – made her take a few days' break, after learning of all the trouble she'd been through to ensure the ceremony's success.

Since Aneril had no definite plans for the short vacation, Vareysa quickly stepped in and managed to talk her into visiting the beach southwest of the capital city, and off they went on a trek again. Although, there was no sense of urgency this time, and they strode along at a languid pace, allowing the tiger cub to run about and play to its little heart's delight. And when they reached the beach, its excitement only seemed to grow – hopping about on the soft sands and leaving paw prints in its wake.

Vareysa took a good, deep breath of sea breeze, then stripped down to her underwear for a swim. Aneril tried to stay dry, but after Vareysa had thrown many handfuls of water at her, turning her clothes soaking wet, Aneril finally relented with a grumble and stripped as well, wading into the waters. They kept close to the shore for a while, before noticing the tiger cub watching them curiously, and prodding tentative paws at the waters.

They went over to the cub, cooing encouragements so that he'd join them, but he still seemed scared of the water, and would only wade in with Aneril holding his front paws. Slowly, they guided him around in short circular laps, then Aneril started letting go of his paws, allowing him to paddle around by himself. They played around in the water for a long time, and Vareysa was the first one to get out of the water, rubbing her wrinkly fingertips together as she toweled herself dry, then laid a mat over the sands to sit on.

She lay on her back with a sigh, feeling none of the past weeks' tension in her muscles. Running around with Aneril on Dominion business was utterly exhausting, truth be told, though she  _did_  find it a nice change of pace from her time in the Morag Tong. It almost felt like she was part of those tales she'd read as a child – heroes running around on some noble quest, helping people in need and working towards a higher cause…

_Oh, how far I have fallen._

Vareysa chuckled to herself and sat up, gaze landing on Aneril, who was now swimming around with the cub clinging onto her shoulders. This break was doing the Altmer good too, if that smile was anything to go by. Vareysa watched as she cooed at the tiger cub, reaching back to pat and scratch its head.

 _Aneril, Aneril_ , Vareysa mused. How soft she was around the cub, yet so stoic around other people. A kind heart she harboured that would help those in need, but was kept hidden beneath that distant, aloof demeanour – that Vareysa so enjoyed poking at. Was it some kind of prissy Altmer upbringing, to never reveal your true face or some such nonsense? Or was Aneril just that much of a grump, who didn't want people to know she was softer inside?

Vareysa gazed at Aneril's happier countenance, that smile that never failed to soften the hard expression she always wore. It was a pity, really – to have such a beautiful side hidden from the world.

Aneril finally got out of the waters as well, and Vareysa made sure to get a good eyeful of the soldier's muscles as she toweled herself dry.

 _Such a pity to hide all these_.

Vareysa's eyes roved over her body as she sat down, noting the numerous scars on her skin – blade wounds, burns, even a claw mark. Aneril had seen her fair share of battles, that was for sure. Her gaze traveled up Aneril's back – admiring her tattoo along the way – and went up the length of her arm, where Vareysa was given pause. Pale scars sat on the fair golden skin of her inner forearm, irregularly spaced between one another. The length of each cut was short, and too similar to be accidents or battle scars…

Aneril noticed her attention then, and caught her gaze, head tilted in curiosity. No self-consciousness or sensitivity – either she didn't know what Vareysa was looking at, or was pretending not to…or she just didn't care. So Vareysa played along, lips curving into a lewd smile as she winked at Aneril – who scoffed and threw her towel into Vareysa's face. She rolled her eyes at the Dunmer's cackle, but didn't bother making a smart remark. Instead, she leaned back on her hands, gazing out at the sea in silence.

Vareysa followed her example, though she was watching the cub still enjoying its time in the water, when Aneril spoke.

"Almost makes me miss the waters back home." Aneril paused, then added, "In Summerset."

Vareysa cocked her head, wondering why she felt the need to clarify.

"They're beautiful," Aneril continued wistfully. "It's nothing like you ever saw in Auridon. Crystal clear waters by the shores, that stretch into the deepest blue of the Abecean, and sparkle even under the moonlight. Sometimes I'd want to just…swim in it for the entire day."

"That does sound beautiful." Vareysa smiled. "You'll be going back after all this, then? Reward yourself with a good swim back home?"

The faint curve on Aneril's lips fell away, as the silence stretched on. "Most…probably not."

"Sounds to me like you miss it. What, don't see yourself going back?" Vareysa got a shrug in reply, and huffed in amusement. "You sound like an exile."

Aneril turned her gaze to Vareysa – almost in surprise – and stared quietly before averting her eyes. She seemed to get uncomfortable, scratching idly at her arms as she dragged her gaze over the beach. Then Aneril reached for her backpack and rummaged around in it – though Vareysa could tell the movement was mostly to keep herself occupied.

She waited as Aneril dug blankly through her belongings, then withdrew an oblong package tied with string – an imported Altmer sweetmeat that Aneril had snapped up the instant she spotted it in Elden Root's market. Aneril pulled off the paper wrap and tore the pastry into two halves, offering one to Vareysa wordlessly.

She took it with a grateful smile, and bit into the crispy, honeyed treat. They ate in silence, watching the waters lap at the shore, as the tiger climbed back onto the sands and prodded its nose at a seashell. Vareysa smiled when the cub trotted farther down the beach with the shell in its mouth, before she turned her gaze back to Aneril, who nibbled at the sweetmeat as if loath to finish it too quickly.

And for once, Vareysa opted to keep quiet. Aneril had earned some measure of peace for herself, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dropping some more hints to Aneril's past, so I should...probably...get to writing her backstory lmao. -chugs coffee-
> 
> Sielaire is my...uh, kinda OC from my other fics, [Devotion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203003/chapters/30201669) and [Raison D'etre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032186). (Basically I stole the Altmer Hero from the ESO trailers kek) Hit em up if you're bored and haven't read them yet ;)


	9. Chapter 9

They camped by the beach for two days, lazing under the sun, chasing the cub all over the sands, and catching so many mudcrabs to eat that Vareysa claimed she could make chitin armour from the empty shells. Mostly though, Aneril spent her time catching intermittent naps under the shade of a tree, while Vareysa sprang about with the cub, collecting fruit and climbing up trees and the nearby cliff – sending Aneril into near-panic once, when she leapt off the cliff's edge…into the waters below.

Minor alarms aside, the short holiday did much to relieve the pressure laden onto Aneril over the past weeks. And though she felt lighter while they packed up for the hike back to Elden Root, she was a little apprehensive of what new tasks awaited her. No doubt they involved more rushing about, and fighting foes that Aneril would've wisely disengaged from, if she'd been back in the Guild. Nevertheless, she squared her shoulders in resolution, and they set off towards the capital city together.

There, Razum-dar gave her an unexpectedly easy task – to travel ahead to the city of Marbruk in Greenshade, which is the Queen's next stop in Valenwood. He shrugged when she asked for an expected date, and said the royal entourage would only set off from Elden Root in a week, after the Prince's funerary rituals were complete. That gave them a window of just under two weeks – more than enough time for travel, and to handle personal matters. But Aneril's relief was quickly cut short when a runner found them, bearing a note from Abnur Tharn that he was traveling to their designated meeting place…four days ago.

So they hurried to Elden Root's gates, where they stopped a merchant's supply cart heading for the Falinesti Winter Site, and caught a ride for a handful of gold. They reached the Falinesti site in half the time, then set on a hike through a denser part of the forest, heading west where Tharn had marked the Wormroot Depths on their map months ago. It didn't take long to find the familiar stone arches that marked the entrance to an Ayleid ruin, but what perplexed them was the absence of Tharn or even signs of his passing. And the cub had just caught their attention by staring at a patch of empty ground by the stone path, growling cautiously, when Tharn's voice floated out of nowhere.

"Took you long enough," he bit, letting down his cloaking spell to reveal a small campsite by the ruin. Tharn strode closer and passed a critical eye over them. "Not going to get much protection from  _that_ , are you?"

Though he'd glanced at Vareysa's scuffed and cut-up leathers, his eyes remained mostly on Aneril, whose armour bore deep gouges in steel, and was missing one gauntlet and both pauldrons – the latter of which was covered up with a rugged brown cloak.

"We rushed here the moment we got your message," Aneril replied as she pulled the cloak closer about her, a little irked and self-conscious under Tharn's scrutiny.

"Are you sure you 'rushed'? I've been camped out here for nearly a week," Tharn continued, obviously having bottled up his sarcasm for too long.

"We were busy, you cranky old coot," Vareysa said before Aneril could speak. "And, by the way, there's a town just north of here. Not our fault you wanted to make your life harder."

"I am keeping a low profile, you thick-headed–"

"Alright, we're here now. Let's just get this over with." Aneril hooked a finger into the back of Vareysa's collar and tugged lightly – a silent cue for her to back down, as Tharn turned around to gather his equipment. She sighed visibly when Vareysa shot her a glare, sharing in their moment of irritation before Tharn returned fully-prepared.

They left the cub in Tharn's tent with an explicit instruction to  _'stay'_ , and it sat on the ground obediently, gazing back at them as Tharn cast a cloaking and protection spell around the site again. Then they entered the ruin with weapons at ready – for this was Mannimarco's secret lair, and though Tharn had confirmed the King of Worms wasn't present, there were sure to be security measures placed within. And there were, in the form of dremora patrolling the dimly-lit halls.

"Can't believe I'm saying this," Vareysa muttered, twirling her daggers as they readied to pounce on a patrol group. "But I'm sick of seeing dremora everywhere."

Aneril snorted and, with a slight smile, charged forward to start their attack. Her two companions took out the rest while she engaged two dremora warriors, which were then downed by a swift combination of spell and blade. The rest of their expedition was just as easy, and they were able to avoid taking any damage while they searched for hints to the location of their missing companion – Sai Sahan.

Their first find was a speaking stone which Mannimarco had used to record his thoughts and memories, and this particular stone cast a projection that showed Sai's torment during his interrogation. The Redguard's determination held fast even in his agony, refusing to reveal where he'd hid the Amulet of Kings. When the projection ended, they delved deeper into the lair to find more speaking stones that might've been left behind – and the Worm didn't disappoint. The next stone betrayed Mannimarco's musings on the Amulet being a powerful tool that can repair the veil between Nirn and Oblivion, and his need to recover the artifact before it could be used to such an end.

They found the third speaking stone in the deepest chamber – Mannimarco's personal quarters – but it was guarded by a particularly angry dremora, bent on punishing them for the intrusion. Aneril's magical shield nearly gave way under the ferocious blows of the dremora's twin blades, but her companions immobilised it before the swords bit into Aneril's arm, then finished her off with a spell blast and dagger to the chest.

Tharn activated the speaking stone while Vareysa plucked her dagger from the body, and they listened to Mannimarco express his frustration over Sai's iron will, unwittingly revealing the location of Sai's new prison – the Halls of Torment.

"Not a very creative name, is it?" Vareysa quipped, getting a shrug from Aneril.

"Uncreative, but it's the name of Coldharbour's most nefarious prison," Tharn explained. "The Daedra in the Halls of Torment reach deep into the dark places of a prisoner's mind, and torture them with apparitions of things they most dread."

"Sounds a lot like what happened to Lyris," Aneril said.

"It's an effective tactic. The Daedra mock our emotional attachments and the memories that form our sense of self – something their immortal selves have no use for." Tharn tapped at his chin in thought. "Wonder what would Sai…"

"We need to rescue him as quickly as possible, then," Aneril said. "Can you get us there?"

"Of course I can," Tharn scoffed, nearly insulted. "I am Abnur Tharn! But first, I have more research to do. To infiltrate the Halls without attracting the attention of Molag Bal or Mannimarco is a delicate task. Ah, yes – I nearly forgot. We should tell Varen what we've found."

With a few sweeping gestures, the proficient mage established a projection to Varen, who seemed surprised by the sudden contact, but was glad to learn their labour had borne fruit. He promised to work with Tharn so they could mount a rescue soon, and bid Aneril stay safe on her travels until he contacted her again.

With that, they made their way out of the ruin, and was greeted by the cub upon their safe return. Tharn packed up his camp immediately, eager to make his way back to Elden Root by portal, and they said a brief farewell before Tharn vanished through a swirl of light.

Vareysa blew a raspberry the instant he disappeared. "He's pricklier than I remember. Even pricklier than that cactus I accidentally landed on once."

Aneril did a double-take. "What?"

"In Alik'r." Vareysa waved a hand nonchalantly, then looked themselves over. "But he has a point – we look like we scrounged our armour from a trash dump."

"I know," Aneril grumbled, touching the deep gash on her breastplate absentmindedly. "We'll get some new ones in Redfur."

* * *

As they'd met Tharn in the later part of the day, the sun was already setting when they emerged from the ruin, and they traveled only a short distance before making camp near the cobbled path. When they woke the next morning, they were still unhurried due to the abundance of time on their hands, and indulged in a slow breakfast before resuming their hike up to the Redfur Trading Post.

It was a Khajiiti town that saw much traffic from merchants and wanderers alike, who were traveling between Greenshade and Grahtwood. Aneril admired the pavilions built by the river that formed the town's border, as they wandered about to take in the view while searching for suitable lodgings. They found the inn with directions from the locals, and were discussing the room's rent when the nervous Bosmer innkeeper suddenly derailed from the subject at hand.

"You–, you're adventurers? The fighting kind, right?" Nellor said, eyeing the weapons on their belts.

"Yes?" Aneril said slowly.

"You have to help me, please." He'd lowered his voice into a whisper. "My daughter, Larasel – bandits have taken her for ransom, but I don't have the gold to pay them. I think–, I believe their camp's just south of here. Please, will you help bring my daughter back safely?"

"What about the guards?" Aneril asked.

"They've been short-handed recently, what with the heavier traffic from the Queen's visit to Grahtwood…"

His expression grew despondent, and Aneril glanced at Vareysa – who gave her a half-hearted smile and tilted her head, knowing full well what her companion would do.

"Very well. We'll look into it," Aneril said, though she noted the hesitance in the innkeeper's face, even when he turned to joy.

Leaving their packs and the cub behind with the innkeeper, they strode out of the inn; then Vareysa clutched at Aneril's elbow, tugging her close as they walked southward.

"I got a weird vibe off that man," Vareysa said quietly. "He's…twitchy. Don't think he told us everything."

"I know. But if his daughter's in danger…"

Vareysa gave her an unenthusiastic look and sighed, "You're so predictable, oh hero of mine." A smile broke over her face when Aneril gave her a light shove.

Their trek to the bandits' location was short, and they found a woman tied up outside a tent in an empty campsite. Vareysa touched Aneril's arm again, but didn't vocalise her own thoughts, following the Altmer as she bent down to untie the woman's bonds. Once freed, the woman uttered her thanks profusely as she stood, then plucked a dagger from under her shirt and lunged for Vareysa – whom Aneril grabbed and yanked out of harm's way.

Aneril conjured her shield and knocked the dagger from the woman's hand, as three bandits sprang from the brush around them. Vareysa flung her dagger into a bandit's chest, while Aneril plunged her sword into the 'captive' woman's gut. Then she turned and rushed at another bandit focused on Vareysa, knocking him flat on the ground, his panicked eyes turning blank when Aneril's blade bit through his chest. Ambush defeated, Aneril looked to Vareysa – who was wiping her bloodied daggers on a bandit's clothes.

"Told you it's fishy," Vareysa said.

"You said he was 'weird'," Aneril growled, cracking her knuckles. "But he's going to be in  _pain_  if he doesn't have the right answers."

The innkeeper tried to keep his shock hidden when they returned to the inn, and stuttered, "What are you still doing here? Why aren't you saving my daughter–?" Nellor squeaked when Aneril grabbed him by the collar, a hush falling over the patrons behind them.

"You set us up to be robbed," Aneril hissed.

"Wait! You don't understand. They made me do it. I mean, yes, they gave me a cut of their takings–" He whimpered when Aneril slammed him against the wall. "I had no choice! They threatened to rob me of everything I own!"

"Then you should've let them rob you." Aneril yanked him forward. "I'm taking you to the authorities."

"A–anything you say! Wait–, no, wait! I never spent a single coin the bandits gave me. I couldn't stand to. I'd happily give it all to you, if you'd let this go. Please?"

"No–," Aneril started to say, when Vareysa grabbed onto her shoulder and pulled her down, so she was bent awkwardly to the side.

"I say take his gold," Vareysa whispered into her ear.

"What?" Aneril said incredulously, mimicking her hushed tone. "No! He's practically a bandit himself–"

"We need the gold. You know, for…" Vareysa patted at Aneril's armour, where the deep gouge and scratches were.

"No. He probably sent many others to their deaths, Vareysa."

Vareysa opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sigh. She leaned back and threw up her hands in surrender, then followed Aneril as she dragged Nellor to the guards standing outside the inn. Their assistance was reported to the leader of Jode's Chariot – the Khajiit guards of Redfur – and in thanks, they were given a free inn room for the rest of their stay.

"See?" Aneril said as they brought their packs and the cub to their room. "We still win."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Vareysa pouted. "Still not gold."

* * *

They spent the early afternoon sitting in a pavilion by the river, enjoying a meal of Khajiiti fare, with special Elsweyr corn fritters and banana bread. When they were done, and the tiger was pawing sadly at the empty banana leaf plates he'd been stealing from, they decided to explore the town in full, before searching for the person who'd help the cub learn to be its own tiger.

They wandered the market first, and spent much time at the smithy, where Aneril had to be convinced to try new armours due to the lack of Altmer designs. She was unsure when putting on a Bosmer scalemail – made of actual, hardened scales attached to a thick leather backing – but found it to be very sturdy. A fact that Vareysa needlessly proved by aiming a hard punch at Aneril's stomach, only to wind up hissing in pain while shaking her aching hand.

Aneril opted for a full replacement of her armour – so did Vareysa, who chose a leather garb reinforced with bone – and they continued through the market, refilling their depleted supplies. Then they broke away from the market crowds and set on a quieter path, following it through the serene forest until it looped back to the town's northern entrance, leading towards the uphill slope to the temple.

As they re-entered town, they passed by a guard arguing with a Khajiit and his senche-tiger companion – or they would've passed by, if not for the Khajiit stopping them out of the blue.

"Ah, thank the moons! As I was just explaining, the thief nearly ran us over.  _You_  chased after him," the Khajiit explained hurriedly – but about what, Aneril had no idea. "Please, tell this fine keeper of peace what you saw. I'm still sore from the last night I spent in the stocks!"

"I–, um. What?"

"This honourable and – if I may say so – very sleek guard has mistaken me for a common sugar-thief!" He widened his eyes innocently and nodded at the guard scowling at him, while his tiger companion gave a few growls and chuffs. "Hush, Gobani," he said to his friend. "If you don't have anything constructive to say, don't say anything."

The guard turned to Aneril, obviously impatient with him. "Tell me he's lying."

"I…" Aneril started slowly, glancing at the alleged thief. "Didn't see anything?"

"Of course not," the guard huffed. "Thank you for your honesty."

But she couldn't arrest the Khajiit on Aneril's statement alone, as the stolen moon sugar was nowhere to be found on the Khajiit. So she was forced to desist, though she did part with one last warning to the suspect, who seemed immensely relieved.

"Well, that was surprising. At least she's gone now – right, Gobani? That was a clever approach, telling the truth! She wasn't expecting that, was she?"

"Did you really steal the moon sugar?" Aneril asked.

"Steal? I guess that's one way of looking at it." The Khajiit waved a hand casually. "Let's say I circumvented the market – I found the merchant's price unacceptable, so I set my own. Not like he has anything to complain about – his belly is always full, from the looks of it." Then he sighed. "Were it not for the Hollow Moon, the unscrupulous merchants would've eaten me whole when I arrived in Redfur."

"The Hollow Moon?"

"Some call them thieves, but it's such an impolite term. The Hollow Moon's work is charitable by nature. They procure things for people who can't afford them, yes?" He looked at Aneril and Vareysa thoughtfully, then reached into his pocket for a simple metal ring. "Since I seem to have overstayed my welcome in Redfur – here. Take this token to the ruined temple, and see for yourself."

"Um, I don't think–"

"We'll take a look, thanks," Vareysa cut in, taking the ring when Aneril didn't move. She smiled back at Aneril's pointed stare when the Khajiit bade farewell.

"You're not going to–?"

"Why not?"

" _Really?_ " Aneril leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "We just turned someone over to the guards this morning, and now  _we_  are going to break the law ourselves?" When Vareysa appeared unswayed, she continued, "Give me one reason I shouldn't turn you in right now."

"Because you said  _'we'_  are going to break the law, my lovely little accomplice," Vareysa crooned, tweaking her nose quickly before Aneril could slap her hand away. Then she grabbed Aneril's wrist and pulled her towards the temple. "Now let's go and check it out!"

"What! No–, Vareysa.  _Vareysa._ " Aneril slapped at her companion all over, but it did little to make Vareysa desist, and soon they were standing before the steps to the ruined temple.

There, they were subjected to the scrutiny of a Redguard when Vareysa produced the token. They appeared to be doing well, the woman observed, and the token was usually given only to the infirm who needed help. Nonetheless, she figured they were given the token for a reason, and directed them into the temple to search for one 'Valirr'.

Said Khajiit of umber fur looked them over with interest, who puzzled at their arrival.

"I've heard you help the less fortunate," Vareysa said – giving Aneril a mild surprise, and earning a nod from Valirr.

He explained the Hollow Moon's dedication to helping the weak and infirm, and ensuring the market stays balanced and fair – through thievery. At Vareysa's promise to help, he spoke of how Shan-ra, the leader of Redfur's merchants, had threatened to invite the Thalmor to deal with the Hollow Moon. The Thalmor, unlike the guards of Jode's Chariot, wouldn't recognise the Hollow Moon's valuable service, and thus they needed to change Shan-ra's mind. To do so, Valirr set them with a mission to retrieve riches from the ancient tomb that Redfur was built upon, so they could use the wealth to persuade Shan-ra.

He sent them to Jode's Hall, where the tomb's entrance was guarded by Valirr's contact. The guard kept the coast clear, slipping them a key to unlock a hatch in the floor, and they descended into the tomb. Then they were given pause as they faced the first corridor before them, which had traps installed into the floors and walls, spewing fire at regular intervals.

"Why am I even here," Aneril grumbled, relieved she wasn't wearing a heavier metal armour. "Should've stayed back at the temple with cubby…"

"Because you like doing good," Vareysa claimed, and with such conviction that Aneril squinted at her – for speaking aloud that little nugget of truth.

"And? What are  _you_  doing here, then?" Aneril asked as Vareysa stepped closer to the traps, examining them. "Are you trying to do good as well?"

"Well, yeah. I guess. And…" Vareysa turned around, shooting her a bright smile and gesturing at the traps – which spouted flaming gouts of fire. "This is fun!"

Aneril stared at her, then let out a heavy sigh. "You are insane."

"I know!" Vareysa cackled with her arms spread wide, looking slightly maniacal when the flames burst to life behind her again. Then she grasped Aneril by the elbow and pulled her over, so they stood just before the corridor. "Here, cast your barrier spell. Then we'll sprint across."

"Ugh." She cast the spell, felt Vareysa's grip on her arm tighten, then sprinted across the corridor during a lull in the fire. Flames licked at the back of her barrier as they crossed the last stretch, clearing their first obstacle– _no_.

Aneril's eyes flew wide at the spike traps covering the floor of the next chamber, and she panicked when Vareysa didn't slow down. "Vareys–, Varey–,  _Rey!_ "

She might've let out a short scream when Vareysa yanked her across in a dive, and she landed face-flat on the dusty floor as spikes sliced up from the metal grates behind them. Aneril grunted in annoyance as she pushed herself up, limbs shaking faintly from adrenaline, and she stood scowling at her partner.

"See, easy!" Vareya raised a hand and kept bouncing on her feet insistently, until Aneril relented with an eye roll, raising her own hand to let Vareysa slap at it. "Let's go!"

Aneril's scowl fell away in the face of Vareysa's excitement, and she huffed quietly when her partner grabbed her hand, tugging her farther into the tomb.

They crossed yet another chamber filled with flame traps, then fought through a spacious hall inhabited by aggressive senche-tigers, which had entered through a broken wall connected to a natural tunnel. The animals were dispatched easily, and to Vareysa's delight, they found an important-looking door bearing a Khajiit figure embossed in gold.

They pushed it open together, and found a puzzle in the next chamber, made of four-by-four floor tiles and three statues standing atop one tile each. Vareysa read aloud the words carved into a short stone pillar, telling a tale of the thief named Anahbi, who tried and failed to steal the light of the moons, Jone and Jode.

"So that must be Anahbi." Vareysa pointed out the feminine Khajiit's statue, then to the two warriors stationed on either corners. "And those are Jone and Jode. Then I should probably…get her across without getting caught? So she can steal the moonlight?"

Aneril shrugged, but Vareysa let out a giggle despite her lack of answers.

"This is  _just_  like in the tales! Treasure hunters beating traps and solving puzzles to get the prize at the end." Vareysa moved to the statue of Anahbi, pushing against it experimentally. "You know, I can't believe I've never explored a tomb like this even  _once_ , in all my 90 years of living."

"Wait, you're 90?"

"Yeah, 92. Why, how old are you?"

"86."

"Eh, practically minutes apart. Hm." Vareysa stopped pushing at the statue when it refused to budge, and instead went to touch the tile in front of Anahbi – causing the statue to come alive with a blue glow, and walk forward onto the tile. They were taken by surprise when the other two statues moved on their own as well, one tile closer to Anahbi. Aneril waited as Vareysa stared at the tiles, planning her moves.

Vareysa guided the statue across the grid and solved the puzzle in her first attempt, getting Anahbi to the end and causing the statues of Jone and Jode crumble into rubble.

"Smart," Aneril quipped.

"That I am. Thank you." Vareysa bowed with a flourish, and they approached the dais at the end of the chamber, where a chest shone with golden light, a sigil of the two moons floating above it. Vareysa opened the chest and retrieved a pendant, which emitted a faint glow from its pale gem. Aneril nodded with a smile when Vareysa looked to her in triumph, and they made their way out of the ruins – this time unhindered by the traps that had been guarding the treasure.

When they found Valirr back on the surface, he was already petitioning Shan-ra, but paused to let Vareysa present the pendant – the gem in which Shan-ra identified as the fabled Jode's Tear. The leader gave a hearty laugh, congratulating their success, and offered a reward for such a valuable gift. Vareysa glanced back at Valirr, and requested what the Hollow Moon wished – for the Thalmor to remain uninvolved, while the Hollow Moon to are allowed to continue operating in Redfur.

Shan-ra agreed, and Valirr offered his thanks – along with a coin pouch of respectable weight.

"See?" Vareysa tossed the coin pouch to the air and caught it with ease. "Now we get gold."

"Congratulations, thief."

"Thank you very much, knight."

* * *

The next day, they sought out the Khajiit who'd been recommended for the cub's tutoring. Za'kir was glad to offer his help, along with his senche-tiger companion, who'd been a guard for Redfur before its retirement. It took a little coaxing before the cub agreed to follow his new companions, glancing back at his caretakers as he trotted away from town.

When the cub was out of sight, Aneril took her leave of Vareysa, with mutters about wanting to wander by herself. So Vareysa left her alone…or rather, followed her from a distance. Purely out of concern, of course – though she did let Aneril stroll out of town by herself, and took note of the direction the Altmer had gone.

Alone in town, Vareysa found herself mingling more with the locals – watching a small troupe practice their dance routine, playing a few rounds of dice at the gambling corner, and flirting with the Khajiit who sat with her during lunch. That one had the silkiest fur she'd ever touched, but then they heard an exclamation of a theft outside the inn, and her Khajiit companion tossed her a wink before slipping out the inn's window.

 _At least steal something of mine first_ , Vareysa chuckled to herself, then left the inn after polishing off her own plate.

Already bored with the town she'd explored in full, Vareysa ventured into the forest with a small packet of snacks, walking aimlessly before she traced the same path that Aneril had taken to the southwest. She strolled along, casting her eyes around until she spotted a familiar head of blonde hair – which made her hesitate at first. The hair was loose about the elf's shoulders, and shorter than Aneril's, but that dark brown jerkin was identical to her companion's.

She approached the elf sitting against a thick fallen log, right beside the larger river connected to Redfur's waters. "Aneril?"

Sure enough, Aneril's face turned to greet her in surprise, and Vareysa was caught off-guard. Her shorter tresses betrayed the gentle waves in her hair, which framed the noble features of her face to complete the picture of…a lady. One who wouldn't look out of place in a rich parlour, sipping tea with a fan in her hand.

_Gods, she looks so…soft._

But not for long – Aneril's brows drew together in a frown, though that only made her look more adorable after Vareysa's…sudden revelation.

"Mind if I join you?" Vareysa asked, even as she took her place beside Aneril, who snorted.

"You've never bothered to ask before." Aneril turned her gaze back to the river, then frowned again at Vareysa when she realised her partner was still staring. "What?"

"You–, uh–" Vareysa panicked at her own loss for words. "You cut your hair."

"Yeah." Aneril shrugged. "It was getting a little long, so…"

"Aw, I liked your longer hair. But you do look cute with this." Vareysa dared to run her fingers down the bottom half of Aneril's hair, and was surprised when she met with no resistance. "I love the way your ears peek out like this."

She flicked at the half of Aneril's ear that was poking out through her hair, and kept flicking until Aneril couldn't ignore her any longer. Vareysa cackled impishly when Aneril slapped at her hand, but she kept reaching for the ear, and the two slapped away at each other until their little game was ended, when Aneril grabbed at Vareysa's ear.

"That won't work, trust me," Vareysa said when Aneril tried twisting her ear. "That's an immune zone for me."

Aneril squinted. "I don't believe you," she said, twisting and pulling Vareysa's ear this way and that.

"For all you know, I have an ear kink," Vareysa drawled, after Aneril had tugged on her ear a few times. "And I just said that so you'd pull on my ear more."

"Ugh!" Aneril shoved her back without force, and Vareysa burst out laughing. "Horrible."

"Only for you, Aneril dear," Vareysa crooned, her smile growing wider when Aneril rolled her eyes, and settled into a scowl. "Aw, come on. Don't be angry. Here." She opened the packet of snacks in her hand, and offered a powdered rice cake to Aneril. "Try this."

Still sulking, Aneril took the round ball and tossed it into her mouth. Then her frown turned curious. "It's sweet. Interestingly…sweet. Did you buy it from Redfur?"

"Yeah. It's moon sugar rice cake–"

Aneril coughed loudly then, pointing a finger at her mouth as she talked through the snack she'd stopped chewing. "This–, moon sugar is  _illegal_ in the Dominion–!"

"Ey, ey." Vareysa placed a hand under Aneril's chin and pushed it up, so she couldn't spit the snack out. "Too late. It's already in your mouth, so you're complicit no matter what. Might as well eat it." Then she held onto Aneril's jaw and moved it manually to make the Altmer chew, until she was doing it on her own accord. "There, see? Wasn't so hard."

Aneril grumbled through the snack, and Vareysa laughed under her breath. "Come now, don't be so grumpy all the time." She looked at Aneril's stubborn scowl, and paused. "Or…do you want to be alone? I can go if you want."

Aneril chewed on the rice cake slowly, gaze fixed on the river. "…Whatever," she mumbled, so quietly it was near-inaudible.

Vareysa bit down a smile, but gave Aneril a concession by staying silent as they ate the snacks she'd brought. When the package in Vareysa's hand was empty, she crumpled it up – and glanced into the distance to find that familiar white figure running over.

They watched the cub approach them with a dead hare in his mouth, which he deposited on the ground between the two.

"He wants to give you a gift," Za'kir said, following behind the cub with the senche-tiger.

"Really? You're such a good boy!" Vareysa cooed, giving a scratch behind the cub's ears that made him growl in approval.

"How was the lesson?" Aneril asked, stroking down the ruffled fur on its back.

"It was good! Your little one is a natural-born hunter! We just need a few more days to teach him all we know, then he'll be ready for your travels. Isn't that right?" Za'kir said to the grown senche, who chuffed agreeably. "Say, come to think of it, we still don't know his name. In fact, he might not know either."

"Well…we haven't really named him yet," Vareysa said when Za'kir eyed them expectantly.

"Actually," Aneril spoke up. "I think I have one for him – Shur'azan."

"Ah – 'brave one', yes? A good name, something to aspire to." Za'kir nodded, as the senche beside him snorted and chuffed at the cub – who turned to Aneril, and hopped up to rest its front paws on her knees, ears pricked. "The little one would like to hear the name again," Za'kir explained.

"Shur'azan," Aneril repeated slowly, each syllable practiced and accurate. "Shur'azan. That's your name, cubby. Shur'azan. Do you like it?"

The cub chuffed and bumped his head into Aneril's nose, then gave her a lick on the face. Aneril scratched at his scruff, her gaze soft as she looked to Vareysa. "What do you think?"

"It sounds good," Vareysa replied. And she watched, entranced, as Aneril smiled and bent down to kiss the cub's head.

_Soft. So soft._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh I'm adding Vareysa portions earlier than planned, cos I remembered Aneril is an Altmer and therefore emotionally-stunted and will only realise there's mutual attraction when it whamabams right into her face. God what a useless lesbian


	10. Chapter 10

"Razan."

A growl, and a curious glance.

"Shur'azan."

The cub tilted his head, and chuffed in answer.

"Zan."

There was a low rumble in his throat, bum wiggling as he padded his paws against the earthy path, and Vareysa braced herself for the tiger's pounce. Shur'azan leapt at her, getting a smile from Vareysa as he pawed at her leathers eagerly – then she realised that his claws had come into play as well.

"No, no! Cubby, no claws!" She swatted his paws away, then bent down closer to the tiger's cocked head, pointing at her leathers. "No claws, or you'll scratch my new outfit."

Another chuff and a brief rub against her leg, and the cub went ahead by himself, running in a haphazard path guided only by his curiosity in whatever caught his attention next. Vareysa huffed and sped up to walk beside Aneril – who'd barely spared them a glance for the entire day's trek. The Altmer's mood had been… _off_  since she woke, but that was unsurprising, given how much she'd tossed and turned in bed the previous night.

Vareysa glanced at her stony expression, had a fleeting mental debate, then tried her luck. "You know, 'Shur'azan' is still kind of a mouthful. 'Cubby' rolls off my tongue better."

"Then use it."

"But it isn't really his name now, is it?"

"Don't think he cares."

 _Hm_. Vareysa waited, then said, "You alright? You've been quiet all day."

"I'm fine."

"You kept waking up last night. Bad dreams?"

"It's nothing."

"If you need to rest, we can–"

" _I said–_ ," Aneril snapped, but caught herself as her feet halted. She took a deep breath, then continued walking, grinding through her teeth, "I'm fine."

Vareysa didn't say anything more, pulling herself back from the boundary she'd just crossed – again. She chided herself and inched subtly away from her companion, but it seemed she didn't have to bother – Aneril drifted farther away from her, wearing a slight frown as they walked in silence. Vareysa grew worried when Aneril fidgeted with the bracer covering her forearm, but she quickly let her hands fall to her sides.

Drawing a quiet breath, Vareysa slowly exhaled and rolled her shoulders, averting her eyes to look at the cub instead. Shur'azan hopped up to Aneril first, but only got the barest of reactions out of her. So he trotted over to Vareysa, chuffing with his intelligent blue eyes fixed on her.

_I know, cubby. I know._

* * *

The trek from Grahtwood to Greenshade took three more days – enough time for Aneril to recover from the mood she'd fallen into. She was still quiet and brooded a fair bit, but responded well to the cub's need for attention and Vareysa's teases; and that was enough to satisfy her Dunmer companion for the moment.

When they finally reached Marbruk in Greenshade, they saw that the city's guard was nearly as heavy as it'd been in Elden Root, in preparation for the Queen's arrival. Vareysa followed Aneril at a distance, just close enough to listen in while her companion spoke to the Eyes' commander stationed in Marbruk. Apparently Aneril's reputation preceded her, and news of her exploits had spread to this city, perhaps beyond. The commander seemed hesitant to assign any tasks that might distract  _'Razum-dar's agent'_ , and he allowed her free rein in the city; though he also bade Aneril to help resolve any issues she might encounter, so they could fully secure the city for the Queen's safety.

"More free time, huh?" Vareysa said as Aneril returned. "Too bad there's no beach near us."

Aneril shrugged. "We'll make do," she said, and off they went to secure a room at the spacious inn, indulging in a nice warm bath to wash off the dirt from the road.

They spent two uneventful days in the city – restocking their travel supplies, relaxing in the cool shelter of solid stone buildings similar to Auridon's architecture, and gathering as much information as they could about Greenshade. Aneril had acquired a map of the region, and kept an ear out for news and rumours, plotting best routes between cities and towns, writing down stuff of interest that could help in their travels to come.

But while Aneril was getting more comfortable in her role as an independent agent, something started niggling at Vareysa the longer they stayed in the city. It started as a feeling of being watched – not an uncommon feeling as a Dunmer in Dominion territory, but  _this_ … Instinct told her it was different, and though she still behaved as laidback with Aneril as possible, her muscles were getting wound tight beneath the surface. And just when she'd decided to break away from Aneril to look into this source of discomfort, Vareysa found her answer waiting for her in broad daylight.

She was following Aneril to the Fighters Guild hall, where they'd get information on the Daedric presence in Greenshade, when Vareysa noticed another Dunmer in the city square, leaning against the thick trunk of a cherry blossom tree. Dressed in a light armour of leather and steel, with a sword strapped to his belt, he appeared to be another wandering mercenary waiting for his next contract. Not a single soul seemed to be wise to his true identity, except for one.

Vareysa caught his purposeful gaze, and her hand dropped to her dagger in surprise – earning a bemused look from him. She frowned while he remained unperturbed, and beckoned her over with a smooth wave of his hand.

"Vareysa?" Aneril asked as she walked back to her companion, who'd stopped dead in her tracks. She glanced down at Vareysa's hand on her dagger, then followed her gaze to the Dunmer at the tree. "Do you know him?"

Her heart was starting to slow from its panicked beat, though not fully. If the Dunmer wanted to kill her, she would've been dead long before her surprise had time to ebb. But his presence here, so far away from Morrowind, was not reassuring.

"He's…an old acquaintance."

Aneril glanced at the mer again, picking up on Vareysa's discomfort. "Shall I get rid of him?"

"What? No." Vareysa let out a laugh, patting her on the arm. "It's not like that. I'll just have a chat with him." She smiled up at Aneril. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up with you when I'm done."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll just be away for a while."

Aneril regarded her quietly, looked one last time at the Dunmer stranger, then relented. "If you need help, I'll still be in the city."

"Of course. Thanks." Vareysa waved her away, and waited for Aneril to walk some distance ahead before going over to the tree.

Without a word, the Dunmer nodded his head towards the city's northern gates, and Vareysa followed him wordlessly. She took one last glance back, and found Aneril standing at the Guild's doors, staring after them. Only at Vareysa's wave did she finally walk through the doors, leaving the Dunmer pair to their own business.

* * *

Leaving the city behind, they delved into the thick woods of Greenshade, and rounded towards the north on a short uphill hike, until they stood on the cliff top overlooking Marbruk. Vareysa waited with her arms crossed as her companion tossed a small runestone onto the grass and uttered a short incantation, covering their immediate vicinity in a cloaking spell – though the both of them could still see each other perfectly.

"So on edge," he mused, looking her over. "Why, worried I'd kill you?"

"That  _is_  our specialty," Vareysa replied drily, meeting her mentor's gaze.

Drelis Athram. The assassin who'd foiled Vareysa's last Fighters Guild contract, then recruited her into the Morag Tong. He'd shaped her into the executioner that she was, and a full-fledged agent of her own. He was a Master in the Tong – two ranks above Vareysa – but instead of managing a guild hall like many of his peers, he preferred wandering the land to recruit promising candidates into the guild. It was an important role, as the Morag Tong was looking to reestablish itself again, but Vareysa doubted recruitment was his concern in Greenshade.

"So it is. That makes what you're doing here…moonlighting, doesn't it?"

Vareysa exhaled sharply, knowing damn well her mentor could beat about the bush for an entire year, if given the chance. If Aneril thought  _she_  was talkative…

"Why are you here?"

"To check on you, of course. The note you sent was brief, and it's been months since we've received word from you. Honestly, I'd half-expected to find you dead."

"But I'm not."

"Which, sadly, complicates things." He shrugged. "And no, no. I'm not here to make you dead. I'd just like to have a little discussion."

She heaved another sigh. "Look, if this is about me not reporting back…"

"Yes, it is."

"I'm still not going back for a while."

"Which, again, complicates things. But don't worry – I'm here to smooth things over." Drelis held up his hands, motioning for her to listen. "Your prolonged absence has piqued the interest of the grandmaster himself, and not in a good way. There are…concerns. Suspicions that you might have slipped, or betrayed us."

"I have  _not_  betrayed the Tong." Vareysa stepped towards him, alarmed at the news. "I have not uttered a single word–"

"I believe you," Drelis said simply. "And you'd better have not, because I've vouched for you." He waited for Vareysa to calm down before going on. "Your loyalty is not an issue for me – I know where it lies. What I am concerned about, is your capability. Remember that Khajiit you were supposed to frame in your last writ?"

"I  _did_  frame him."

"Oh yes, I know. But he escaped. Returned to Vvardenfell, caused some trouble before he was put down." Drelis waited, giving Vareysa a moment to process the news. "While we understand that  _keeping_  him detained was not in the writ, it has raised some concern about your skill. Now, now," he added, when Vareysa narrowed her eyes. "Direct your anger at them, not me. I vouched for you, remember?"

"Get to the point, Drelis."

"I have two points, actually. And the first is you." Drelis steepled his fingers together, gaze turning sharp as he looked her over. "I know why you took that writ in Auridon so quickly, Vareysa. I could see that you were tiring. And no, it doesn't say anything about your skill," he cut in before she could protest. "I've seen this many times before. Fatigue. You're hardly the first agent to experience it. The Tong might be a calling to many, but at the end of the day, it's still a job. As it is with tilling the fields, or tending a bar day after day, executions do tend to wear on the soul after a while."

Drelis. He could often fall into that patronising tone that made Vareysa want to punch his mouth. But in this case, she couldn't argue against the truth he laid bare. So she remained silent as Drelis clasped his hands behind his back, casting his gaze over Marbruk before looking back at her.

"And though I've rarely said it aloud – I do respect your skill. You are still valuable to us. So I've come to make you an offer – you may stay with your budding Altmer hero. But I expect you to be our eyes and ears out in the rest of Tamriel."

Vareysa raised a brow. "I thought we were limiting our activities to Morrowind?"

"Oh, we are. But this whole Daedric business concerns us at home as well. More anchors fall in the mainland – not in Vvardenfell, don't worry. Your family's safe," Drelis added at Vareysa gave a start. "But there's always a chance they'll invade the island as well. And if the Morag Tong wants to survive…we'd need a place to live in. Make sense?"

"Don't tell me the Tong wants to get involved with fighting the Daedra?"

"If push comes to shove, we have to. And if we do, it can only improve our reputation – the Great Houses are positively eager for any information on them. So." Drelis looked to Vareysa. "I expect reports on the Daedric threat – especially if it threatens the safety of Morrowind. Understood?"

Vareysa stared back at him, nearly disinclined to believe the favourable turn of events. "Yes."

"Officially, you are no longer part of the Tong. We cannot have one of our own running around with a Dominion agent. So you can expect no aid from us. And, when you return, you'll have to petition the Grandmaster himself to be reinstated."

"Typical. But I understand." She eyed Drelis carefully. "That's not all, is it?"

"No." Drelis smiled, pleased at her observation. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a neatly-folded note, holding it up between two fingers. "A price to pay for your freedom. Prove your loyalty to us, and we will let you go."

Vareysa took the note and unfolded it, reading the target's name and the cause for his execution. She smirked, looking back up at Drelis. "This writ is as good as done."

* * *

Since Drelis had been in Marbruk longer, he'd spent much time observing the target's movements and habits, and relayed the information freely to Vareysa. She kept his advice in mind and spent the day shadowing the Altmer merchant around. A lowly hireling of House Hlaalu, he was used extensively to establish trade routes between Morrowind and Dominion territories – and to obtain sensitive information on the enemy alliance, which the House could use to curry favour from the Tribunal. But now, they'd become aware that he was feeding the Dominion a fair share of Pact secrets as well, and Hlaalu wanted to be rid of this problem before it came to light.

The task was easy enough – the merchant was painfully unaware of his death sentence, as evidenced by his lack of caution and the lax security measures installed in his home. But it was evening by the time she'd decided on a course of action, and she chose to look for Aneril first.

A good call, it seemed – Aneril had been worrying after her since she'd left. And when they were both assured the other was fine, Vareysa asked how Aneril had spent her day, having spotted the Altmer running about the city. So Aneril told her story over dinner, about how she'd helped track down a Bosmer thief called the Artisan, who used theft to stir up trouble among the Altmer, with the intent of driving them out of the city. Vareysa smiled when Aneril revealed she'd resorted to a little thieving herself to resolve the situation, but chose not to tease the Altmer for breaking her values.

Her own task was starting to weigh heavier on her, the longer she spent time with Aneril.

* * *

Vareysa pretended to be asleep long after Aneril had said goodnight to the cub, and blown out the candles. She waited patiently for a whole hour, making sure Aneril had fallen into deep sleep before she crept out of bed. Quietly, she slipped on a fitting cloth shirt and pants, and wore a sleeveless leather bodice for protection, in the unlikely event that she was compromised. She strapped on the single dagger she'd kept hidden at the bottom of her pack – one not even Aneril had seen before – and secured a sheath of throwing knives to her thigh. Finally she cast an invisibility spell over herself, slipping through the open window and out into the night.

She leapt onto the neighbouring roof and stood still for a moment, savouring the chill of the night air on her face. Then she drew the shirt's hood over her head, and pulled the mask up from her neck, covering the lower half of her face. Vareysa drew a deep breath and exhaled against the mask, a detached coolness spreading through her body. She smiled grimly to herself – the executioner was back in her element.

_How I've missed it so._

It was easy, too easy for her to move around, even with the heavier guard presence in Marbruk. But Vareysa didn't spend time musing about their uselessness, and focused on her task – winding through the dark back alleys and paths she'd spotted during the day. She snuck under the cover of night with ease, until she stood behind the house of her target.

The candles were still lit, but that was hardly a problem. Casting a spell to muffle any sound she might make, she crept over to the window, catching sight of her target sitting in a chair by the fireplace, engrossed in a book. Vareysa pried the window a little wider open and climbed through. She was readjusting the window when the Altmer stood from his chair, and she froze in place, though her caution was unwarranted. Her target moved towards his bookcase, blissfully unaware of the intruder in his home.

_Too easy._

Vareysa followed behind him, and as he lifted his arm to replace the book, she aimed a forceful kick at the back of his knee. He fell to the floor, and his shocked gasp was muffled by a palm clamping over his mouth. He hadn't time to register what was happening, when a cold blade pressed to his throat, and  _slit_.

* * *

When she returned to the room, Aneril and Shur'azan were still peacefully asleep, the cub's paws twitching in his dreams. Vareysa dressed down and settled back into bed, slipping easily into a dreamless sleep.

In the morning, the tavern was abuzz with news of the murder. The patrons couldn't stop discussing the guards' investigation, but Vareysa quickly tuned them out. According to what she'd heard, the lack of clues had everyone mystified – and if she had her way, it would remain a mystery forever. Aneril didn't pay much attention to the gossip either, merely shrugging when Vareysa prodded her, saying there were probably too many hands on the case anyway.

After breakfast, they walked towards the southern gates, planning to head into the woods for a little exploration. They took a longer route through the city as Aneril grew curious about the murder scene, and Vareysa played the part of an nosey bystander, trying to poke her head over the small crowd to have a look. But Aneril didn't stay for long, and quickly tugged Vareysa away by the arm before she could really cause trouble.

Vareysa's eyes were fixed on Aneril as they walked away, searching for even a hint of suspicion on her partner's face, when Aneril stopped suddenly and turned to her.

She held her breath and tensed up slightly, but Aneril only said, "Is my whetstone with you?"

Vareysa blinked in surprise. "Yeah. In my pack. You need it?"

Aneril nodded, and continued walking. "Tonight."

Vareysa kept watching her after they'd passed through the gates, and Aneril's silence dug so deeply into her, that she couldn't help but blurt out, "Not gonna ask if I did it?"

Aneril looked over, cocking her head. "The murder? No writ, right?"

The lack of hesitation caught Vareysa off guard, and she struggled to put her mind back together, before smiling. "You've learnt."

Aneril just shrugged and walked on, unaware of the twinge of guilt in Vareysa's chest. But the Dunmer was quick to shake off the awful and unfamiliar emotion, focusing instead on her companions as they followed the road leading away from Marbruk.

As always, the cub was eager to explore the wilderness, and bounded about happily as he poked his nose at any interesting tree or rock he came across. He showed off his new hunting skills by chasing after a few birds and rodents, but they had to intervene when he tried tackling a thunderbug by himself. He'd merely landed a scratch on the huge bug's sturdy carapace, when his foe shot lightning at him, landing a few bolts on his body. He stumbled back with a yelp, and Aneril stepped in quickly, lashing at the bug with her fire whip once to stun, then again to slice through its carapace and wound it. And while it was trying to recover from the pain, she rushed forward and drove her sword into its body.

She stabbed it a second time to make sure it was dead, before jogging back to where Vareysa was kneeling on the ground, cooing and stroking the cub, who had lain down on his side. Aneril knelt beside it as well, passing an eye over the blackened patches of fur, and the cracked and burnt skin beneath, trickling blood.

"It's okay, cubby. It's okay," Aneril said, scratching his head. "I'll heal you. Hold him still, Vareysa."

Vareysa laid her hands on the cub, stilling his pained twitches as Aneril held her palms over his wounds. Shur'azan tried lifting his head to lick his wounds, but Vareysa held him in place while golden light gathered about Aneril's hands, and washed over his wounds. The cub's whines and growls slowly faded, and soon enough, Aneril lifted her hands from his now-undamaged skin – though the fur would still be uneven until he grew it out.

"You're getting better at that," Vareysa remarked, getting a shrug from Aneril.

"Still a long way to go," she said simply. She rose to her feet along with the cub, who skipped about experimentally, and kept looking back at his body as if to check his healed wounds.

After they warned the cub not to fight any more bugs bigger than himself, they found a small hill and sat on its grassy slope, taking out the generous rations they'd brought along for their hike. They gave the cub a few slabs of meat to indulge in, while they dug into meat roasts and a precious banana pie they'd had to order quietly from the Altmer chef.

"You seem to be sleeping better," Vareysa said, chewing on her last bite of beef. "Less grumpy."

Aneril rolled her eyes. "Shut up or I  _will_  get grumpy."

Vareysa chuckled, accepting her half of the banana pie that Aneril handed to her. "You're saying that like you're not already grumpy."

"Whatever," Aneril grumbled, munching on her own pie. She clicked her tongue when Vareysa nudged at her. "What?"

"What happened? You were in a pretty bad mood a few days ago," Vareysa clarified when Aneril tilted her head curiously, but it only made her look away. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm  _very_ good at keeping secrets."

"It's nothing," Aneril mumbled, taking another bite of pie. She chewed slowly, then said, "I dreamt of my old company, the one I lost in Cyrodiil. And my mentor."

"The orc?"

A nod.

"You were upset over them?"

"I was just…thinking." Aneril shoved the rest of her pie into her mouth, severely disappointing the cub who was pawing at it. She swallowed her food and heaved a sigh, gazing blankly at the forest in the distance. "So much has been happening so quickly, that I…haven't had time to process everything. I just want things to…stop, for a moment. Just  _stop_  happening, you know?"

"I know. It's been busy." Vareysa patted her on the back. "But it'll be alright, hm? Don't rush yourself. And I'll be here if you need me."

Aneril glanced at her, but looked away without a word. Then, after a moment's pause, she nodded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey doing her own biz while Aneril's been bottling up so much stuff it's gonna turn into a molotov cocktail. It's been slow but...
> 
> *rubs hands together*


	11. Chapter 11

They'd been stuck in Marbruk for a week, awaiting the Queen's entourage which – according Razum-dar's letter – had departed from Elden Root a few days behind schedule. Reading the note made Aneril want to pull at her hair, and she spent the next couple of days growing more stir-crazy, until Razum-dar's unexpected and early arrival in the city. He caught Aneril in the marketplace and pulled her aside, speaking in a quiet tone,  _"Go to the Mages Guild's vaults and retrieve the Staff of Magnus for Queen Ayrenn. She will be arriving in the city very soon. Talk to Captain Sarandil, tell him this one sent you. Raz will take care of other matters in the meantime."_

Aneril nodded, wondering at the traces of exhaustion on the Khajiit's face, but kept quiet as Razum-dar ambled off on his own. Then she turned to Vareysa and told her to stay by the Mages Guild hall with the cub, before moving on to perform her task.

She caught Captain Sarandil outside the temple, and followed the captain's lead into the guild hall, where he brought her straight to the guarded doors of its vault. Sarandil seemed quite proud of the vault and its treasures, and gave her an impromptu tour – he was able to talk of each relic's history, and even introduced the rare plants in the collection as well. Aneril listened politely – taking note of a rare flower from Morrowind as she did so – and when they were done, Sarandil led her to the final vault door, dispelling the magical wards which protected the prized relic.

The Staff of Magnus was the only item in this chamber, placed on its own stand in an alcove lit by candles burning with magical blue flame. Aneril approached the staff reverently, but when she reached out to take it, her fingers slipped  _through_  the staff, disrupting the illusion spell. They were taken aback when the staff vanished before their eyes, and Aneril withdrew her hand, allowing Sarandil to check the alcove personally. The captain expressed his shock – sounding almost disgraced by this incident – and led her out of the vault.

"Has anyone else been here recently?" Aneril asked, keeping her voice low.

"No. Only you…and Vicereeve Pelidil." Sarandil stopped short beside Aneril in the main hall, turning to her with a frown. "He toured the vault recently – on the queen's business, or so he said. The staff  _was_  here before he came, but I didn't check after that…"

A Dominion herald entered the guild hall then, and announced the arrival of Queen Ayrenn, causing a helpless expression to cloud Sarandil's face – mixed with a healthy bit of fear. But it was alleviated when Aneril volunteered to inform the queen herself, and she squared her shoulders while Sarandil's sagged in relief.

Queen Ayrenn was waiting outside the Mages Guild hall, looking resplendent in her gold-trimmed armour, standing tall beneath the bright afternoon sun. She smiled at Aneril's appearance, though her joy was quick to evaporate when she learnt of the staff's disappearance.

"Then it's true. Pelidil has betrayed us. Razum-dar confirmed that my brother's body hasn't made it to Marbruk either." Ayrenn's expression darkened, and though her fleeting scowl wasn't aimed at Aneril, the agent still felt a tiny tinge of fear. "I knew he loved Naemon dearly, but I didn't think he'd stoop to this. It seems I will once again require your aid."

"Anything you need, Your Majesty."

But Ayrenn didn't say a thing, merely giving her a nod before waving her over to Razum-dar, who stood by the steps behind them. He beckoned Aneril over, and promised to search for the staff himself – while Aneril took care of another problem. The Bosmer in Greenshade were not followers of King Camoran, and view the Dominion and its Queen with scorn. They were firmly loyal to the 'Wilderking', a forest spirit whom none has ever seen – which Razum-dar thought rather mystifying, but he was confident Aneril could win the elves over, as surely as he could.

It was a confidence Aneril didn't share, but she accepted the mission from her commander regardless – who was she to argue, after all?

As she walked away from the Mages Guild, Vareysa fell in step beside her, and listened as Aneril relayed her mission's details. Vareysa's smile grew, as if she thought the whole situation absurd.

"A warrior and spy…now a diplomat as well? You are very versatile indeed."

"Shut up," Aneril groaned, wondering not for the first time if she regretted joining the Eyes of the Queen.

"It's going to be fine." Vareysa clasped onto her shoulder. "You'll pull through, like you've always done."

* * *

Aneril knew of the Bosmer village Razum-dar had identified – it was common knowledge that the Bramblebreach clan bore a hostile attitude towards Marbruk and outsiders in general. It's why she and Vareysa had avoided it during their explorations. However, duty now compelled Aneril to venture into the village, and experience that hostility for herself. Though she understood their sentiments, it didn't make things easier while she was taking the full brunt of the treethane's disdain.

Treethane Niriel first scoffed at Aneril's status as a Dominion agent, then at her ignorance regarding the Wilderking, when she requested an audience with him.

"Ha! Sure, let me just pull him from my satchel!" Niriel said aloud, and Aneril had to bite down a sigh. But the treethane regarded her thoughtfully, and extended a sliver of grace, "I  _could_  tell you how to petition the Wilderking, but I'd have to know you can be trusted, first. There's a tribe of Wood Orcs currently plaguing Bramblebreach. I want you to get rid of them."

She gestured at her attendant, who took a filled pouch from a shelf, and handed it to Aneril. "Take these seeds, and plant them in the Orcs' camp. Lurchers will sprout from the seeds in a few minutes, and wreak havoc on them. But their chieftain is strong – that one, kill him yourself."

Aneril bowed with a fist to her heart, and left the treethane's podhouse eagerly. Together with Vareysa and the cub, they set out looking for the orc camp, but stumbled upon an Altmer pair along the way. Aranias was a mage guarded by the warrior Andur, and she expressed surprise that the treethane had humoured Aneril – Aranias had no luck appealing to Niriel herself. Nonetheless, she smiled and wished them luck, before moving on with her own search for the Wilderking.

Parting from Aranias, they made good time to the Wood Orc camp, where Vareysa took the lead and cloaked herself with a spell, stealthily planting the lurcher seeds in the ground. Aneril watched from the sides as hulking creatures of roots and branches sprang up from the soil, and fell upon the orcs in murderous rage. But she tore her eyes away from the commotion when Vareysa returned, and they headed up a short grassy slope towards the chieftain's camp.

With an expert throw of her dagger, Vareysa took out the wizened shaman standing beside the chieftain, before he could wreak havoc with his magic. Then Aneril charged in while the chieftain was still taken by surprise, and she dispatched him easily with dragonfire and steel.

Mission completed, they snuck out of the orc camp while it was still in chaos, and slipped back to Bramblebreach. Treethane Niriel raised an incredulous brow at their efficiency, but was more than willing to fulfill her own promise. She directed them towards a clearing south of her house, where they should touch a Petitioning Stone to speak with the Wilderking. Niriel offered them a warning as well – that they shouldn't keep their hopes up, for the Wilderking had been silent despite the villagers' numerous petitions before.

Not to be dissuaded, Aneril headed to the clearing, and laid her own hand on the Stone – causing it to glow an earthy green hue. Countless leaves swirled above the stone, then dissipated to reveal a figure dressed entirely in leather, bone, and bark. He wore an impenetrable mask of wood – and Aneril would've thought him a tree-like being, if not for the flesh of his fingers left bare by his gloves.

She bowed her head respectfully, and conveyed a wish for the Wilderking to align himself and his people with the Dominion. But the Wilderking just cocked his head curiously.

"I don't see how inclusion in this…'Dominion' would appeal to me or the people in my domain. Aligning with you would only alienate us from others," he spoke evenly, voice bearing an otherworldly quality.

"Only from our common enemies," Aneril replied.

"Interesting. You think we have common enemies? My only enemies are those who would seek to harm Valenwood. But I wish to see these enemies you speak of, so I might better understand."

The Wilderking gestured at the stone pillar behind him, which Aneril moved forward to touch. Upon contact, an apparition of a Veiled Heritance officer appeared, cutting down Dominion soldiers – Altmer, Bosmer, and Khajiit alike. The Wilderking watched the apparition silently as Aneril explained the Heritance's aims and violent methods, then nodded slowly.

"I sense darkness in his heart," the Wilderking murmured, mask turning towards Aneril. "The Veiled Heritance? I know of them. There is one among this group who has come to see me, and I find her…very curious. I am not inclined to consider her an enemy."

He bid Aneril touch the Petitioning Stone again, and this time, apparitions of three mer appeared – two were the Altmer they'd stumbled across before, Aranias and Andur. The last was Kinlady Estre, giving Aranias the task of slaying the Wilderking, in order to drive the Bosmer mad from the loss of his stabilising influence.

"You do not think she is an enemy?" Aneril asked. "She's trying to destroy you."

"So she believes, but there may be a greater truth to her purpose here. You may not like this, but I sense the same is true of you." The Wilderking fixed his eyes – hidden by his mask – on Aneril. "Like the branches of the Graht-Oak, I believe that Aranias' destiny, my destiny, and yours are all intertwined. I cannot yet see how these events will play out, but I do know that like Aranias, you must come deeper into the forest."

* * *

The Wilderking assured Aneril that he would remain safe until she accomplished the task he'd given her – to see how their current story began, and how it would end. Aneril would've loved to hurl a branch far, far into the distance out of frustration at his vagueness, but she settled for a hike to the cottage the Wilderking had directed her to, so she could play her role in this  _'story'_.

A Bosmer spinner was waiting for them in the dingy stone cottage, and cheerfully informed Aneril that he'd already started Aranias' story…whatever that meant. Aneril didn't bother to get a clarification, only instructions from Spinner Maruin to lie on the floor comfortably, so he could guide her into a sleep which would send her into Aranias' story.

She did so quite uncomfortably, glancing at the hole in the roof, then at the cub sitting by her feet. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up at Vareysa.

"Don't worry. I'll watch over you."

Aneril breathed a tired sigh, then closed her eyes. Spinner Maruin sat beside her and spoke, weaving a pleasant image of an island called Silatar back in Summerset. A powerful, young Altmer mage lived there, and Aneril should become a friend to her. Aneril was magically lulled into sleep with each word that passed his lips, until she'd finally drifted into a dream – in which she woke up.

It was disorienting at first – to know it was only a dream, and yet remain lucid in such a realistic landscape. But she didn't have time to ponder the oddness of it all, when Aranias ran up to her, clasping her hand with a bright smile. The mer seemed a little younger, though her copper blonde hair was still worn the same, falling just to her shoulders. She started talking as if they were more than passing acquaintances, and Aneril couldn't help but ask, "Do you…know me?"

Aranias' eyes grew wider in response. "Of course I know you, silly! We practically grew up together. You're the only one I can trust these days."

 _Ah, yes._  The 'part' Aneril had to play in this story – and so, she performed. Not that it was difficult, truth be told; Aranias was bubbly and warm, and seemed to have no wish other than to spend time with her friend, before her parents returned. She led Aneril in a race to all their favourite places while growing up, and Aneril even barked a laugh at Aranias' trick of tripping her with conjured vines, before they stopped dead in their tracks – distracted by fires in the distance.

"Something's wrong," Aranias uttered, clasping tightly onto Aneril's arm. "Can you feel that? The land's in pain, burning hot. The farm's burning!"

"Where is it?"

"Over the rise. Wait. Too many footsteps. It's too early for my parents' return. Boots…" Aranias' brows drew together. "Invaders on Silatar. We have to stop them!"

Aranias rushed towards the farm with Aneril sprinting behind her hurriedly, testing her own magic in this dream – and she was glad to find it still worked. Aneril took the charge at the invaders, bashing and slashing with her conjured shield and sword, clearing the farm of the bandits and their Bosmer leader. They stood outside the ruined farmhouse to regroup, while Aneril looked over the bodies bleeding onto green grass.

"Why would they do this?  _Animals!_ "

"Where did they come from?" Aneril asked, only to have Aranias turn to her in anger.

"Does it matter? I'm tired of this! Everyone wants to hurt or use me, and it stops  _now!_ " Aranias clenched her fists, and the ground shook beneath them. "Where were you when my parents 'tested' me? Where were you when I needed you most? You left me.  _Why_ are you even here? Do  _you_  want something from me too?"

Her tirade left Aneril confused – it made no sense to her, but guilt still rose in response. "I–, only want to help…"

Aranias paused, then shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. It's not your fault. You helped drive off the bandits…" She looked off into the distance. "It's getting late. We need to clean up before my parents return. Meet me at the manor later."

She walked off, and before Aneril could follow her, Aranias disappeared into thin air. Confounded, Aneril cast her eyes around in search, before she heard Spinner Maruin's voice in her ear,  _"In her tale, Aranias was volatile and she swung between anger, shame, and hope. Feared by her own parents because of her abilities, she faced the bandits alone._ _This made her bitter and hardened against others. Vulnerable to outside influences."_

Aneril stood quietly in thought. "She doesn't remember me from Valenwood, does she?"

_"Of course not. For her, that hasn't happened yet. Remember, I put you into her past to help her when she's at her most vulnerable. Now, she trusts you. That's what's important."_

With a sigh, Aneril nodded and allowed the spinner to show her another of Aranias' memories – at an island in a river, with Aranias and her parents. Aranias revealed proudly that she'd made the island with her own abilities, but her joy was soon crushed by her parents' disapproval. Aneril felt a twinge in her own chest at the sight, eyes resting on Aranias' crestfallen expression, as Maruin said,  _"Gifted with a rare and powerful ability, Aranias tried in vain to win her parents' affection."_

He transported Aneril to the lighthouse, where Aranias bore her parents' dismay at her wrecking a ship with a wall of rock – that she'd pulled up from the sea. Her parents dissipated like smoke, and so did Aranias – before Aneril could lay a hand on her shoulder.

Maruin then brought her to a room in the manor, where Aranias was pleading with her parents, "Don't leave for Summerset, please. I won't do it again, I promise. I'll try harder. Don't leave me behind."

Aneril's throat tightened, and she tried to touch Aranias, only to have her hand go through the life-like apparition.

"Don't grovel," said the mother. "It's unbecoming. Your father and I will return with help to control your temper."

"How much more can I apologise? I didn't mean to destroy that ship. I said I'm sorry…"

Aranias disappeared again, and Aneril dragged a hand down her face while Maruin said,  _"You are near the end. Don't give up now. Change into the dress laid on the bed, and join Aranias in the garden."_

"Damn this all to Oblivion," Aneril muttered under her breath as she pulled the dress on, taking some pleasure in the soft fabric on her skin – she'd missed this sensation for a long time.

Walking out into the manor's garden, Aneril found Aranias at a party…with High Kinlady Estre in attendance. She frowned subtly in Estre's direction, then reached Aranias, who suspected that her parents had thrown this party to show off her powers. She was clearly discomfited, and asked Aneril to discover the true intention of this party.

Aneril agreed and, dredging up the social etiquettes ingrained in her since young, she mingled with the guests, partaking in superficial conversation until she overheard that Andur was holding a 'beggar' prisoner, away from the house. Aneril pried herself away then, and ventured off in search of Andur – who stood in a field, pointing his sword at a Bosmer bound on the ground before him. At Aneril's inquiry, Andur mentioned a demonstration that Aranias would perform on the Bosmer's wife in the garden, before he came to a startling realisation that Aneril was not of the Veiled Heritance.

He charged at Aneril immediately, but she threw herself to the side and lashed his dominant arm with a flame whip. He cried out and dropped his sword, which Aneril snatched from the ground and plunged into his neck without second thought. Huffing from the sudden onset of adrenaline, Aneril turned back to the Bosmer captive who, with his dying breath, begged her to save his wife.

Maruin spoke in her ear then,  _"Hurry to the garden. Aranias has been commanded to kill the wife of this Bosmer. Go to her. She faced this alone last time."_

Aneril dropped her sword and rushed back to the garden, where the party-goers had gathered around Aranias and a Bosmer woman kneeling before her. Estre stood by them, and said, "This creature is no different from those who burned your farm. Aranias, do you remember how helpless you were when your farm burned?"

Aranias' face twisted into a mask of anger, green wisps of magic gathering about her arms. Vines exploded from the ground, and trapped the Bosmer in a tight prison – inciting a panicked reaction from Aneril.

"Aranias, stop!"

Aranias started when Aneril ran over, but raised both hands to stop her. "No, don't. This is my test. If I can take the life of this girl, it means that I'm willing to make the necessary sacrifices."

"This is  _not_  a necessary sacrifice. It's  _murder_ , Aranias!"

"What about the Bosmer who attacked my island? What were they? Dominion ambassadors? A peace mission?" Aranias argued, though Aneril heard the tremble in her voice.

"Those were bandits," Aneril said slowly, not wanting to provoke her. "This woman did nothing to you."

Aranias shook her head. "If I refuse to kill this Bosmer, then what? I'll be alone again. The 'Rock Witch of Silatar', a monster for fairy tales."

Estre huffs, "That's right–"

" _Shut up!_ " Aneril shouted at her, then turned back to Aranias – grasping firmly onto her arms. "You won't be alone, Aranias. You'll have me.  _I'm_  here."

"You're here with me now, but what about later?" Aranias' lips quivered dangerously, before she pressed them into a thin line. "No, that's not it. I must trust myself. Believe  _I_  can do what's right. I don't need anyone, you or the Veiled Heritance, to guide me."

She broke free of Aneril's grip, turning to face Estre. "I am stronger than this. I won't murder an innocent just to prove I can. The Veiled Heritance won't control my destiny.  _I_ will!"

With a cry, Aranias wove a spell stronger than Aneril had ever seen her conjure, and vines rose from the ground to trap the Heritants present. Aneril started moving towards Aranias, but the world around her turned to white, then black.

* * *

Though Aneril woke from her dream rather calmly, she felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her head – sharp and disorienting. Her eyes whipped to Vareysa when the Dunmer bent over her, and she raised a hand to clutch onto Vareysa's arm, squeezing tight to ascertain she was truly there in the flesh.

"You're real," Aneril rasped.

Vareysa smiled. "Of course I am. Seems you've been asleep for too long."

"How long?"

"Hours." Vareysa helped her to sit up, while the cub nuzzled against her cheek. "The spinner went outside for some fresh air. He said you were successful?"

Aneril nodded, sifting through the sleepy fog in her mind, and the memory of her lengthy dream – all sharp and real, as if it'd all happened in real life.

"Something wrong?" Vareysa asked, noticing her darkening expression as she recalled Aranias' past.

"No. It just–"  _Hit too close to home_. But Aneril kept that bit of detail to herself. She shook her head at Vareysa, then rose to her feet to join Spinner Maruin outside the cottage.

"You've done well," Maruin said. "It looks like you made quite an impression on Aranias, and because of you, Aranias may very well betray her masters to defend the Wilderking. But we cannot afford to delay any longer." His expression turned grave. "Aranias and Andur force their way to the Wilderking's throne as we speak. You must stop them before it is too late."

* * *

Greenheart – a small town just west of the cottage, and home to the throne of the Wilderking. Aneril – with a dull ache in her head – hiked to the town at double pace with Vareysa, spotting the fires even from a distance. When they reached the bridge leading into Greenheart, the Wilderking's projection appeared before them once again.

"It's good you're here. With earth magic and fire, Aranias and Andur force their way towards my throne, leaving chaos in their wake. I've lost control of my guardians. My power fades. I've always wondered what death would be like. Soon, I will know."

"Are you not going to fight back?" Aneril asked.

"My end was inevitable all along," said the Wilderking calmly. "Someone new must become caretaker of the Valenwood. Aranias was guided here for this purpose."

"Aranias? She'll take your place?"

The Wilderking nodded. "It's fascinating. In her heart, I think she knows the truth, but she's conflicted. Perhaps it is Andur's influence? Please, help her. Aranias must choose to accept this responsibility of her own accord, and I fear Andur will oppose her. Help her defeat him."

Aneril quickly cast a spell of protection over the cub, and with a touch to Vareysa's back, they shared a nod and picked their way through the burning town. They followed the fires which marked Aranias and Andur's destructive path, leading them to a manor near the edge of town. There, the Wilderking's projection appeared before them again.

"Quickly. Aranias wavers. She knows now why she was guided here – not to destroy the Valenwood, but to save it. She wants to change course, but she's afraid. She's afraid to stand up to Andur."

"Where are they? I don't see their trail anymore," Aneril said.

"Aranias' powers grow as she draws closer to the throne. She opened the ground here and they entered the Throne Tunnels." He pointed at the massive hole burrowed into the ground – which Aneril had assumed was dug by a wild creature. "You must follow. You must be there to help Aranias when she decides to make her stand."

"I will."

Aneril jumped into the tunnel first, then helped Vareysa down as the cub leapt in without trouble. He stayed behind the pair as they ran through the long tunnel and finally emerged onto a plateau, where they heard Aranias arguing loudly with Andur. They followed the stone path along the plateau, which lead them to a tunnel filled with fire. Aranias stood by its entrance with shoulders hunched, gripping her arm in pain.

She looked over at Aneril, and was taken by surprise. "It's you? From Silatar? My–, my friend."

"Yes." Aneril took the arm she was clutching onto, her sleeve stained with blood from a sword wound. Casting a healing spell, Aneril mended the injury to the best of her ability, while Aranias spoke.

"The Veiled Heritance – they used me as bait to trick the Wilderking, and now Andur is going to kill him. I can't let that happen. I have to stop Andur, but…he's too strong for me."

"Then I will help you," Aneril offered without hesitation, getting a small smile from her.

"Thank you. He's gone ahead. I can travel through the roots to catch up, but you'll have to fight your way through." Aranias pointed at the fires in the tunnel.

"It's alright. I can protect myself. See you on the other side."

Aranias disappeared in a swirl of green light, while Aneril turned around and took Vareysa by the arm, tugging her close with the cub right beside them.

"Stay close to me," she instructed, casting a barrier spell over themselves. "Let's go… _now_."

The group took off at a run through the tunnel, feeling the oppressive heat of the flames engulfing their barrier. Aneril glanced down regularly to check that the cub was keeping pace, while she maintained a tight grip on Vareysa's arm until they emerged unharmed, leaving the fires behind.

In the clearing ahead, they found Aranias locked in a heated battle with Andur, who roared in anger when Aneril threw a firebolt into his back. Shur'azan gave a roar of his own, but stayed at the sides as always, while Aneril and Vareysa leapt into the fray. Andur was gifted in both magic and blade, but it couldn't save him from three capable combatants at once. He soon fell under their combined blows, gasping from the multiple stab wounds Vareysa had given him, and Aneril put him out of his misery with a blade across the neck.

She looked up at Aranias, who wore a sombre expression and told them to look for the dying Wilderking in his tower, at the end of the stone path. Then she vanished amid her magic once more, leaving them to trek up to the tower themselves.

They found the Wilderking sitting on his wooden throne alone in the tower, and he beckoned them forth.

"Aranias was guided here to take my place, but I believe you were guided to her to assure her ascension. If you had not come, I fear Andur would have killed us both, leaving the Valenwood wild and vengeful. Many lives would have been lost."

Aneril nodded. "Where is Aranias? Is she to become the Wilderking–, Wilderqueen now?"

"Yes. For centuries, my sole focus has been shaping and maintaining the Valenwood, protecting it from outside influence, and from itself. Now that she has come, I am free to return to the earth, give back to that which has given so much to me." The Wilderking sat still to let the words sink in, then gestured to the ceiling. "She is up above. You should go to her. She is frightened of the transformation process, but you must comfort her. This is the natural course of things. It is necessary for her, and for the Valenwood, but she must choose it of her own accord."

"I'll go then. Thank you."

And as Aneril moved to the ladder at the side, the Wilderking said, "Goodbye now. It's time for me to rest."

Aneril turned to watch him, but he did not look at her. Instead, he leant back in his throne, seemingly at peace with his fate.

"Aneril," Vareysa said. "Should I go with you?"

Thinking it over, Aneril shook her head. "No. Stay here."

Then she climbed the ladder and emerged on the upper floor, closing the hatch behind her. She joined Aranias on the balcony, looking out at Greenheart and the thick forests beyond.

"I'm scared," Aranias said when Aneril stood by her side. "Shouldn't I be feeling confident? I mean, we defeated Andur. And look at all of this! I've worked my magic on small pieces of land in the Summerset Isles… But this is an entire forest, a living forest. Tell me I can do this."

"You can do this."

Aranias smiled at her swift reply, though it soon fell away. "I think he was a man too, once. The Wilderking. I mean, he was like us. But when he took this on, he became something else. I think he merged with the Valenwood and forgot his previous self entirely."

"Then the same will happen to you?"

"Yes. When I become the Wilderqueen, I'll forget my previous life, my home, my youth…everything."

Aneril cocked her head. "From what I saw, they weren't exactly…happy memories."

"No. But they are my memories, and some of them fond. The ones with you. They seem only partially real, but they're the memories I'll miss most." Aranias gazed at her quietly. "I have to let go though. The way I embrace you in my heart, that's how I must embrace the Valenwood."

She wrung her hands nervously, then took a tentative step forward. Aneril lifted her arms, allowing Aranias to close in for a hug. She held the younger mer tightly – a friend made, only to be lost within the same day.

"Listen," Aneril said quietly. "I understand what you've been through. In the past. And…it might be a gift, to forget what has happened before."

Aranias pulled back to watch her face, then nodded with a wan smile. She took another step back, hands moving down to clasp Aneril's. Taking a deep breath, Aranias exhaled slowly. "I am ready. But I need your help." She held up her hands, green magicka coalescing into the crown of the Wilderking, which she handed to Aneril. "You must climb the tower further, and place this crown in the gardens there. Then you must wait for me. Promise you'll wait."

"I promise."

With one last glance back at Aranias, Aneril went to climb the ladder, finding a lush garden in the tower's topmost floor. She placed the crown on a pair of entwined branches and stepped back, watching the Wilderqueen appear before her eyes in a bright flash of light. She was almost identical in appearance to the Wilderking.

Aneril stepped forward. "Aranias?"

"Everything is so…very different," came Aranias' voice through the mask, though slightly changed. "It's like I'm no longer a single physical form, but my being is spread out across the forest. Aranias is slipping away. You are my friend though, whoever I become. Will you stay for just a moment?"

"Of course."

"I am prepared to lose my memories, but I don't want to lose the lessons I've learned. You helped me understand the difference between a foe and a friend. I'm determined not to forget that, nor to forget you."

"Neither will I," Aneril said. And though she couldn't be sure, she felt Aranias smile beneath the Wilderqueen's mask.

"I know why you originally came here – to ask for the Wilderking's allegiance to the Aldmeri Dominion – to know the Valenwood is on your side. Would you still make such a request to me now?"

"Yes. Queen Ayrenn sent me to ask your allegiance on her behalf."

"And I freely give it. On behalf of myself and the Valenwood, you have our allegiance. I only hope Ayrenn realises her best ally stands before me now." The Wilderqueen fell silent, head tilting slightly. "Before Aranias' memories fade, there is something else I must tell you about the Veiled Heritance – they stole the Staff of Magnus. I know not where they've taken it, but you should search in Woodhearth, to the west. I will open a portal to the western gate of Greenheart for you. Goodbye, my friend."

The Wilderqueen extended a hand to Aneril, who was surprised, but clasped onto the proffered hand – still warm, though accompanied by an…unearthly chill.

Aneril swallowed thickly. "Goodbye…Aranias."

But as she turned back to the ladder, the Wilderqueen spoke, "Aneril. I sense a pain you bear, similar to that which Aranias carried. Though you may not be able to forget, know that you have the strength to overcome it."

She stared at the Wilderqueen for a long moment, stunned. Protests and doubt rose to clog her throat, but she forced them down, and nodded with a tight smile.

* * *

Aneril had descended from the ladder just as a gleaming portal appeared in the Wilderking's now-empty throne room. She didn't say a thing, merely gestured for Vareysa and the cub to follow, before stepping through the portal herself. Curious, Vareysa ushered the cub in first, then entered the portal to join her companions at the western gate of Greenheart.

"We're going to Woodhearth," Aneril said, voice flat. "The Wilderqueen said we should search for the Staff of Magnus there."

"Alright, let's go."

And that was the end of their conversation for the next hour. The sun had fully set, and the moon took its place in the sky; and under the dim glow of the travel lanterns tied to their backpacks, Vareysa kept a close watch on Aneril. The Altmer seemed to have grown…attached to Aranias, and it was no surprise that she felt upset at losing a friend. But she acted rather odd physically as well, often clutching and worrying at her head. Aneril's steps became uneven, and she frequently paused in her tracks as if to gather herself, before moving on again.

When Aneril tripped over a log  _clearly_  in her path and almost fell to the ground, that was the last straw. Vareysa pulled her over by the arm and forced her off the path, insisting they made camp for the night despite Aneril's protests.

"I'm  _fine_ ," Aneril growled when Vareysa pushed her down to the ground.

"Oh yes, you definitely are. But I'm not going to wait until you trip and crack your head on a rock," Vareysa riposted easily, setting up their lanterns and taking out her bedroll. "Besides, you look like you can't even focus on anything right now."

"It's just a headache," Aneril muttered unhappily, crossing her arms. "Been there since I woke from that dream…"

"Yeah? Even more reason for you to rest now." Vareysa asked the cub to fetch some wood for a fire, and as it bounded off, she reached into their bags for some rations. But she took a glance at Aneril and stopped, finding the Altmer hunched with her head in her hands. Vareysa scooted over, setting a hand on Aneril's head. "Feeling alright?"

Aneril nodded, but her frown gave the lie away. She clicked her tongue when Vareysa lifted her head in both hands.

"Now, now. Relax. I'm trying to help. This has always worked for me."

Holding Aneril's head gently, Vareysa massaged her temples with her fingertips. "Try thinking of something happy. You know, something that won't give you a headache?"

Aneril rolled her eyes, then shut them. As Vareysa continued kneading at her temples, the frown on Aneril's forehead never left – instead, it grew more severe the longer she waited. Then it seemed Aneril gave up, heaving a sigh as she opened her eyes, gaze lowered in silent trouble.

"Can't think of anything?" Vareysa smiled when Aneril shook her head. "How about…something peaceful? Calm. Like…swimming in Summerset's waters?"

Aneril's eyes flickered up to her, but Vareysa focused on the massage instead, so the Altmer could have some privacy in thought. She spent a little more time at Aneril's temples, before reaching out to untie her short ponytail, allowing blonde hair to come loose. Vareysa reached for the pressure points at the base of Aneril's skull, feeling her tense slightly under the touch, then relax when Vareysa kneaded gently.

She worked her way down Aneril's neck and back up, then placed her fingertips on Aneril's temples again. Vareysa lifted her eyes to meet Aneril's, and paused in mute surprise when she found that blue gaze fixed on her. It was faraway, lost in thought – but bore a softness that never existed while Aneril was busy scowling at the world around her.

Unbeknownst to Vareysa, she had clean forgotten about the massage, hands moving to cup Aneril's face lightly instead. Then blue eyes blinked and focused on her, searching, turning curious. Vareysa came to herself then, and jerked her hands down from Aneril's face, trying to ignore the heat creeping up to her cheeks.

"Ah–, feeling better?"

Aneril cocked her head thoughtfully. "A little. Thanks."

Vareysa smiled and shifted away from Aneril, painfully aware of the thudding in her chest as she cast her eyes around, searching desperately for something to distract her. And right on time, the cub trotted back with a small bunch of sticks in his mouth – barely enough for a fire, but Vareysa welcomed his return nevertheless.

"Such a good boy!" Vareysa cooed as Shur'azan dropped the sticks on the ground, then clamped him in a hug. "My clever little baby boy!"

Shur'azan chuffed in reply as Vareysa smooched the top of his head.

 _My little saviour_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic's chapters tend to get pretty long, but ironically easier for me to write since it's mostly just…direct transcription from in-game events. Do tell me if it gets too dense, I think this chapter's length may be the limit I'll set for future ones (6k). 
> 
> Still trying to fine-tune my writing style in this - mostly to keep missions more succinct, so they'll be easier to read. (And more time for gay.)


	12. Chapter 12

Nightmares. They'd never been a problem for Vareysa, even after a good ninety-two years of living, getting into trouble, and witnessing things she'd rather forget. But that was it – she  _did_  forget. Few things affected her, simply because she didn't dwell on what had passed and was beyond helping. It was a lack of conscience, she figured, or a certain kind of coldness, selfishness; and in her line of work, this detachment was a boon. Which assassin would ponder how their target was a charitable person or a loving parent, after all?

No, she was glad not to care – and thus be spared from past events that would otherwise haunt her. The same, however, couldn't be said for her current companion.

The ragged cry startled Vareysa awake in an instant, body warming up for action as she pushed herself up from bed, reaching under her pillow for the concealed dagger. Her right hand gleamed purple with a spell of life detection, but as her vision adjusted to the darkness of night, the spike of adrenaline slowly faded when she realised there were only two other life signatures in the room. One was on the ground, moving to the bed where another, larger life signature sat.

Vareysa let go of her dagger and dissipated the spell, feeling a mute shock as she watched Aneril sitting hunched over her knees, breaths wracked with choked sobs. Rising from bed, Vareysa padded over to her companion, but stopped by the door when someone knocked. She opened it to find the inn's Bosmer maid, looking quite concerned. Vareysa smiled and whispered  _'bad dreams'_ , reassuring the woman before she shut the door lightly.

Then she went to Aneril's bed, nudging aside the cub's head so she could sit beside the Altmer, who barely noticed their presence. Aneril's shoulders were shaking, head bent as she continued to cry in that odd, stuttering manner – as if she was fighting to stop the tears, but wanted to let go at the same time. Her face was hidden behind her loose blonde hair, and Vareysa stopped herself before combing her hair back, knowing Aneril would want this modicum of privacy.

"Aneril," Vareysa said gently. She rested a hand on Aneril's back, only to have Aneril jerk away from her touch in reflex, gasping in alarm. "Relax. It's me."

She rubbed Aneril's back in comfort, but when it seemed to have no effect, Vareysa circled an arm around her shoulders.  _She's really shaking_ , Vareysa noted, feeling the tremors in Aneril's body as if she was caught in a snowstorm. She hugged Aneril firmly to offer some support and warmth, then reached down to gently grasp Aneril's hand that was gripping tightly onto her pants. Again, Aneril jerked at the contact, but her fingers were dug too tightly into fabric to move away.

"It's okay. It was just a dream," Vareysa murmured, though she was unsure if Aneril heard her. The Altmer remained hunched over, breaths more erratic and rough as if trying to gather herself under Vareysa's eye. "Don't force yourself. Cry if you need to. You don't have to…"

An odd, strangled sound from Aneril's throat – somehow, Vareysa didn't doubt it was a protest from the proud Altmer.

"Aneril, it's okay. You're safe here." She reached up blindly to touch Aneril's cheek, stroking tear-stained skin with her fingers. Other than Aneril's trembling, she didn't try to move away – surprisingly. So Vareysa took a chance and ran her fingers through Aneril's hair, then guided the Altmer's head close. It was not without resistance, but Aneril eventually rested her head on Vareysa's shoulder, though her face was still turned downward in a futile attempt to hide herself.

"It's okay," Vareysa repeated, now able to circle both arms around Aneril, holding her firmly. She wished she was a little taller to accommodate the Altmer's height, but Aneril started curling up into herself, the tenseness in her body falling away the longer Vareysa held and patted her soothingly.

Vareysa had closed her own eyes by the time Aneril's tears stopped, sobs faded into quiet hiccups. She angled her chin down, brushing over the top of Aneril's head that had nestled tighter into her neck, and smiled when she noticed the hand clinging onto her shirt. Vareysa kept quiet though, still aware of her companion's sniffling, and minute quivers in her body.

They stayed like this in silence for a long while – Vareysa briefly distracted by the tiger's chuffs, before sending him back to sleep with a wave of her hand. She glanced down when Aneril's head nodded from her shoulder, then nestled back into her again. Vareysa had to repress an amused huff, so she wouldn't wake Aneril; and after a moment's thought, she shifted her position very carefully, and laid smoothly down on the bed with Aneril still huddled close to her.

No reaction from Aneril – a good sign. She needed some rest for the moment, without having to worry about anything else.

 _Must be the worst she's had so far_. Vareysa sighed quietly, fingertips grazing over mussed blonde hair. Aneril was resting quite heavily on her shoulder, but Vareysa wasn't inclined to disturb her companion just yet.

* * *

When Aneril stirred, her head was heavy, but thankfully spared from an ache that typically followed restless nights.

… _Restless._

Her recollection was slow, and started trickling in when she realised she wasn't alone in bed. Her face was in someone's hair, head on their shoulder, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of their chest. Unconsciously, Aneril started to turn her face into the warmth, when she paused –  _wait_.

Aneril jerked her head up, and was greeted with the lazy red-eyed gaze of her traveling companion.

"Good morning," Vareysa said, but it only made Aneril sit up even quicker, putting more distance between them. "Not one for pillow talk, huh?"

At Vareysa's chuckle, heat rose to Aneril's cheeks. She turned away from Vareysa, scooting just a little farther from her.

Vareysa sat up beside her, and laid a hand on her back. "Feeling better?"

Aneril didn't reply, still piecing together what had happened, when she received a gentle nudge on her head as Vareysa climbed out of bed. Her eyes remained fixed in a blank stare at the blanket covering her legs, as she recalled last night's dream. Major details were starting to fade under the sunlight filtering through the curtains, but she knew with certainty she'd dreamt of Coldharbour, and the soulless husks of the soldiers she'd commanded and lost in Cyrodiil. They clawed, dragged, and chained her to a ritual altar, where her old mentor stood over her and drove a greatsword into her heart; the last words in her ears –  _'You've failed us.'_

A hand on her shoulder jolted her back to reality, and she looked up to find Vareysa standing beside the bed, peering at her in concern.

"You alright?"

Aneril dropped her gaze quickly, but gave a nod in reply.

"I'll get some food up here, alright?" Vareysa said, giving Aneril a light squeeze on the shoulder, before walking out with the tiger cub on her heels.

Aneril only raised her eyes when the door was shut, shame already falling over her in a pall. She'd woken in a mess, shaken by her dream, then…clung to Vareysa for comfort.  _That_ , she could remember with better clarity; how Vareysa had held her while she trembled uncontrollably, how her warmth had driven away the cold remnants of the nightmare.

It was a nightmare,  _damn it_. Just a dream. And she'd let it overwhelm her,  _again_.

_You're a shame. A shame._

Hitches marred her breaths, but she fought it down. Her trembling hand moved to the empty spot on the sheets beside her, dimly wishing the warmth was still there.

* * *

They ate breakfast quietly in their room, taking longer than usual, while the cub sat on a chair by the window and watched the streets below. When the meal was done, they strode out of the inn – Aneril relishing the sun's rays on her skin, when she was approached by a Dominion soldier. Razum-dar had sent him to retrieve Aneril, the soldier said, and the Khajiit wanted her to join him at the Thalmor Headquarters as soon as possible.

Glad for a mission to occupy her mind, Aneril gave her assent and headed to the headquarters with both the cub and Vareysa – whom Razum-dar knew by then. They found him in a private room, and while a mage was busy prepping a spell beside him, Razum-dar talked of Pelidil's passage through Woodhearth after stealing the Staff of Magnus – thus confirming the Wilderqueen's advice. Then he directed her to the treethane in the room with them, so he and the mage could focus on their own, curious preparations.

Treethane Fariel laid out the details of Razum-dar's plan to flush the Veiled Heritance out of Woodhearth – they'd spread rumours of Queen Ayrenn's visit to the city, in order to provoke the Heritants into an assassination attempt. The lure was a juicy little detail that Ayrenn would investigate the rumours of rebellion herself, and venture into the city's old Imperial Underground to meet a Thalmor officer – who was the Heritant spy they aimed to catch.

Aneril raised a brow. "So…we need someone to impersonate the Queen?"

"Of course we do," came a smooth, familiar voice behind her. "And that is where this one comes in."

They turned around, and were surprised to find Queen Ayrenn standing in Razum-dar's place, wearing a  _very_  cheeky grin on her face.

"This one shall be Queen Ayrenn for today, and put his life on the line for Her Majesty, as always." He bowed with a flourish, then twirled a lock of pale blonde hair around his finger. "Hm. You know, Raz  _does_  look good in this form. But then, Raz always looks good. Queen Ayrenn could maybe learn a thing or two from this one."

Vareysa snorted beside Aneril, who grimaced. "You may look like the queen, but you still don't sound like her."

"A fair point. Raz…er, I will keep that in mind," he said, adopting that formal yet easy tone of Ayrenn's. "Now, the plan. You and I will go to the Imperial Underground and meet this officer, Asteril, and find out if she is a traitor. She's quite the beauty, I'm told. But traitors are never what they seem, yes?"

"I guess not," Aneril replied. "But are you taking only me along? The queen should have more protection, no?"

"Ah, no. Bringing more guards along will only deter them. But I would like for your partner to follow us – stealthily. That should be no problem for you?"

"No. I have a cloaking spell on hand," Vareysa said, then glanced down at Shur'azan. "We'll have to leave the cub here, though."

"Perfect." Raz clapped his hands together, and Aneril couldn't help but feel strange seeing his impish smile on Ayrenn's face. "Shall we?"

"Yes. But try to control your face a little more," Aneril suggested as she walked to the closed door.

"Ah, of course. The Altmer expression is always more wooden." Raz schooled his features into a placid mask, before a curious look crossed his face. "Although…should Raz take a moment to check if everything's in place–?"

He purred unexpectedly, when Vareysa reached out to squeeze his behind.

"Sorry," Vareysa said with a crooked smile. "I've always thought she has a nice ass."

"Might as well sate your curiosity when you can, eh?" Raz grinned at her with Ayrenn's features, while Aneril's face fell into her hand in exasperation.

* * *

Cloaked in an invisibility spell, Vareysa followed behind Razum-dar and Aneril, who took empty paths through the city, towards the ruined tower at its southern border. Raz led them down a trapdoor into the Underground, and Vareysa hung back in the small entrance chamber while he and Aneril walked into the next. She pressed up against the wall beside the doorway, to reduce the chance of being spotted by their target.

She pricked her ears to listen in, while Queen Ayrenn's voice said,  _"Asteril? Is that you?"_

 _"Yes. Come closer, my queen. I have something for you,"_ replied a voice so slick with purpose that Vareysa distrusted it immediately.

_"What is this?"_

_"A gift in memory of Prince Naemon. Vicereeve Pelidil sends his regards."_

There was a shrill magical hum, then Aneril shouted  _'watch out!'_  before a huge explosion rocked the chamber, and she cried out in pain amid the crash of falling rubble. Vareysa ran into the chamber, glancing at the hole that had been blasted through the ceiling, and the pile of broken stone beneath it. Rubble was strewn over the ground, and in the corner, Aneril lay draped over not-Ayrenn's body, hunched and gasping in agony.

Shedding the cloaking spell, Vareysa rushed to kneel by her side, eyeing the heavy block of stone lying on Aneril's left leg. It must be the main source of pain for her, barring the shallow burns she and Razum-dar had suffered on skin and fur.

"Hold on," Vareysa said, and held onto the edges of the stone, getting a good grip with her fingers. She heaved the stone off Aneril's leg, and the Altmer groaned through gritted teeth, holding onto her thigh with a white-knuckled grip. Her leg was bent in an odd angle at the knee, obviously broken, and when Vareysa shifting her into a more comfortable position, Aneril cried out and slapped her away.

"No, no time!" Raz interjected when Vareysa grabbled Aneril's arm instead, planning to carry her out. "Vareysa, go after Asteril  _now_. She escaped by magic, but not portal – so she can't have gotten far. Catch her, and find out where Pelidil is hiding!"

He pointed at the heavy wooden doors on the other side of the chamber. Vareysa glanced at Aneril, then rose to her feet. "Take care of her."

At Raz's nod, Vareysa recast the invisibility spell and took off farther down the Underground, effortlessly slipping past the Heritance soldiers who patrolled the dark corridors. She climbed a flight of stairs, following the few twists and turns, and finally found a chamber that could pass for living quarters. Vareysa slit the neck of the sole Heritant in the chamber and did a quick search, finding a letter addressed to a Heritant member – signed by Vicereeve Pelidil himself. It revealed the Heritance plan in Woodhearth, and Vareysa decided this was evidence enough; she stuffed the letter into her belt pouch, and made her escape from the Underground.

* * *

Vareysa found Razum-dar and Aneril back in the Thalmor Headquarters, where their wounds were being tended to by healers. Razum-dar leapt up at her arrival – earning a chide from the healer as he did so – and he hastened to take the letter from Vareysa, reading it quickly before passing it to Treethane Fariel.

While Fariel and Raz conferred quietly with each other, Vareysa knelt by the military cot where Aneril lay, and smiled down at her. "Are you alright?"

Aneril nodded. She waited for the healer to mend the burns on her upper body, then sat up with Vareysa's help. Looking Vareysa over, she asked, "What happened?"

"There were more Heritants in the Underground, and I found a letter about their plans in Woodhearth."

"Good," Aneril said listlessly, her gaze drifting back to her knee, where the healer was focusing his attention. They stayed in silence for a moment, before Razum-dar and Fariel returned with new orders.

"There's something strange about Pelidil's orders," Fariel said. "The reference to Asteril seems odd…but either way, she's the key to unraveling this mess. We need to question her and find out what she knows."

"Let me guess: I'm to track her down?" Vareysa said.

"Since Aneril's injured, we'll have to use you instead," Raz mused, worrying at the burnt fur on his face. "But this  _could_  be an easy one. If Asteril believed Raz was Ayrenn, then she hasn't realised we're onto her. We might be able to catch her by surprise at the Thalmor residence right now. And don't worry – Raz will be there with you."

Razum-dar then strode to where his armour was laid on the floor, and began strapping them on quickly. Vareysa turned to Aneril, who was watching her in silence.

"Seems I'm off on another mission. I might as well be a Dominion agent now, huh?"

Aneril regarded her thoughtfully, then nodded. "Be careful."

Vareysa flashed a smile. "For you? Of course I will." She tweaked Aneril's nose, and snickered when her hand was slapped away.

* * *

She went to the Thalmor residence with Razum-dar and another grey-haired Altmer agent named Oromin, who refused to believe Asteril had turned traitor. And when they found Asteril's dead body lying on the floor of the residence, he breathed a sigh of relief – she appeared to have been dead for some time, which proved she hadn't been in the Underground within the last hour. With a wan smile on his face, Oromin bade Vareysa work with Razum-dar, while he took care of Asteril's body.

Vareysa left him to his prayers, and joined Raz in the adjoining chamber, where he stood by a hatch on the floor. There were dusty bootprints leading up to it, indicating recent passage. They shared a glance, then climbed down the hatch together, finding themselves in another passageway of the Imperial Underground. Raz picked up a letter near the entrance, written by Pelidil and addressed to Layaril – Asteril's sister, who'd impersonated her for the assassination attempt.

He pocketed the letter, and they delved deeper into the Underground. With Razum-dar at her side, Vareysa could no longer slip past their foes undetected. But they made a formidable team indeed, slaying the Heritant soldiers as quickly as each fight started. Soon, they dispatched the Heritant commander, and found Layaril in an isolated chamber, stabbed and left to die by Pelidil's own soldiers.

In her dying moments, she expressed no small amount of contempt for both the Dominion and the Heritance – but also revealed that Pelidil was mustering a huge force to attack Seaside Sanctuary, a town in Greenshade from which he would launch an invasion of the region.

As she slumped over in death, Razum-dar looked extremely troubled – for Layaril mentioned that Pelidil was now working with the Maormer, and would raise an army of undead to work alongside the sea elves. Not only that, Pelidil would raise Naemon as an undead prince to lead the risen army as well.

An extremely distressing revelation to be sure, and when they returned to the headquarters to give their report, Treethane Fariel sprang into action, sending reinforcements to shore up Seaside Sanctuary's defenses. Aneril would've followed suit and clambered onto her feet, if not for Vareysa pushing her back into the cot, and Raz shaking his head at her.

"No, Aneril. You stay here until you've fully healed. I need you at your best when we're in Seaside, understood?"

Aneril frowned, glancing at Vareysa as if for help, then nodded reluctantly.

* * *

Vareysa crossed her arms, waiting patiently while the ship's first mate scribbled away in her logbook. She tapped her foot idly as she looked around the docks, bustling with dockhands shifting cargo, and merchants selling supplies to sailors looking to restock. Lifting her gaze to the ship before her, Vareysa read the name painted on its hull – 'Mercy's Grace'. An allusion to Mother Morrowind, no doubt…

"Finally," the first mate declared, lifting her quill from the logbook with a flourish. "Now, you were looking for courier services? Yeah, we do offer it. What needs sending?"

Vareysa held out two envelopes – one carrying a letter to her mother in Balmora, and the other a report to her mentor in Vivec City. The Dunmer sailor took the letters, reading the addresses written neatly on both covers, and nodded in the affirmative.

"Aye, we'll have it handled. But we'll reach Vivec's port in three months, at least. Is that alright?"

"Yes. I'm not on a schedule."

"Good. Let me jot this down, and that'll be ten gold, please."

Reaching into her pouch for the coins, Vareysa asked, "How are things back home? Been there recently?"

"Aye. Few months ago, actually. Things are going as well as everywhere else. People worrying about the war, dealing with the damned Daedric anchors… Not a moment's rest on land. You've no idea how glad I am to be on the seas."

"And Vvardenfell? Have the anchors landed there yet?" Vareysa felt a pinch of homesickness mixed with worry, as she dropped the coins into the first mate's hand.

"No, but there are concerns. Heard tell of some Telvanni wizards gathering where they suspect an anchor will drop. Hope they can put their magic to use and stop it."

"Hopefully," Vareysa sighed. One of the few things she held close to her heart, was her mother. And though it was difficult to be so far from Llethasi in a time of turmoil, she knew her mother could take care of herself – even dispatch a few Daedra with her forging hammer if need be. She took comfort in that fact whenever her mind strayed back to home.

"What are you doing here anyway?" The first mate straightened from her book, looking Vareysa over. "Your accent – Balmoran, isn't it?"

"Yes," Vareysa chuckled. "I'm here on business…maybe for the long run. So it's nice to hear Dunmeris all the way out here."

"I understand," the first mate smiled at her, before turning away at her crewmate's call.

"A ship to Morrowind?"

Vareysa jumped at the voice right beside her, then turned to give Aneril a reproachful slap on the arm. "You scared me!"

Aneril cocked a brow, and looked back at the sign on the first mate's makeshift stall, which displayed the ship's route:  _'Woodhearth - Senchal - Lilmoth - Vvardenfell'_. She was leaning on her crutch for support, still unused to the splint fastened around her knee. Though the healer had mended her bones, the healing magic still needed time to 'take', and Aneril had to wear a splint to avoid straining her knee and undoing the healer's work.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just sending letters home."

"Oh." Aneril tilted her head, reading the sign again. "Vvardenfell. That's home, isn't it?" She glanced at Vareysa, who nodded. "Aren't you going to book passage?"

"What? No, of course not," Vareysa replied incredulously. "I promised to help you, remember?"

"But you don't have to. And you've been missing home. It's alright if you want to go back."

"Aneril." Vareysa leaned back, wearing a bemused smile. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Aneril stared quietly, then seemed to grow uncomfortable, and averted her eyes. "That's not…what I meant. I just–, forget it."

"It's alright," Vareysa said, as Aneril fidgeted with her crutch. "Why are you here? I thought you went to rest at the inn with our boy."

"I need your help with something." Aneril lifted the small leather satchel in her hand, then nodded for Vareysa to follow.

Walking beside Aneril, Vareysa held onto her arm to help her down the steps, and they headed towards the northern corner of the city – where a large tree overlooked the sea. Numerous bowls with lit candles were placed around the tree, along with offerings of flowers and trinkets, even a few written notes. Vareysa didn't need to guess what this was.

"This is where they honour those lost in the war," Aneril explained. "I'm told that since a lot of bodies couldn't be shipped home, this is the next best thing they can give, aside from a funeral."

She reached into her satchel and pulled out two white candles. Muttering Altmeris under her breath, Aneril lit one candle with magic and handed it to Vareysa, who placed it on the stone border around the tree. Then Aneril spoke again – Vareysa thought she heard some orc-ish syllables – and lit the other candle as well. She gave it to Vareysa, who placed it beside the first.

Aneril watched the two candles in silence, before she took the battered sword strapped to her belt. "Place this by the second candle."

Vareysa set the sword down as instructed, then rose to stand by Aneril once more. She waited as Aneril stared at the candles longer, then asked, "Who are these for?"

"The first is for my company – the one I lost in Cyrodill," Aneril said flatly. "The second is for Ghorzak, my mentor. I don't have a weapon of his to offer, so my sword will have to do."

"Ah." Vareysa tilted her head. "Wait, does this mean you're finally using your glass sword?"

"No. I bought another one." Aneril gave the faintest smile at Vareysa's chuckle, then reached into her satchel again. "This…is for you."

Vareysa raised her brows at the dagger that Aneril offered her. She took it and drew the blade from its sheath, noting its Dunmer design and the dark tint of obsidian. "How did you get this? I haven't been able to find one since Auridon…"

"The Fighters Guild here has a Dunmer weaponsmith. I bought it from him."

"I–, you shouldn't have."

Aneril shrugged. "Take it as…thanks."

"Thanks?" Vareysa's lips parted in a playful smile. "Whose?"

Rolling her eyes, Aneril breathed a sigh. "…Mine."

"Aw, see? I knew you cared," Vareysa crooned, poking at Aneril's cheek. Grinning when her companion shot her a drab stare, Vareysa slung her arm around Aneril's and led her away from the tree. "Come on, Raz gave me quite a hefty reward for the last mission. Let's treat ourselves with a nice meal – you like seafood, right?"

"…I like lobster."

"Then lobster we shall have, my grumpy little Altmer."

Aneril snorted. "You're the 'little' one here, tiny Dunmer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon on healing magic: though a spell can mend a wound fully, the patient still has to rest for a time for the magic to 'take'. Putting too much stress on the wounded area will cause the magic to unravel, and reopen the wound. Bone and organ injuries take more time to heal than flesh wounds.


	13. Chapter 13

Aneril spent the next three days hobbling about Woodhearth, getting more annoyed at the splint on her knee. And despite the inconvenience, she made sure to check in with Treethane Fariel every morning and evening, just to keep abreast of matters at Woodhearth and the mustering of soldiers at Seaside Sanctuary. Part of her was constantly anxious, ever since they learnt of an impending invasion by the Maormer, and only her good sense kept Aneril from ripping her splint off and heading to Seaside herself.

On the fourth morning, the agonising wait came to an end when Treethane Fariel finally decided to send Aneril along to where she was needed.

"We've received word of Maormer ships starting skirmishes at Seaside Sanctuary, and I expect it won't be long before they land," Fariel said, brows furrowed. "If our forces strike the Maormer hard enough there, we might be able to drive them back out to sea before they get a foothold on the shore. I've sent everyone I can spare, and Raz is there to help as well. But I want you to be there too, just in case things go awry. I know you're only one woman – two, with your companion there. But if your reputation is anything to go by, you might just be enough."

Fariel glanced down at Aneril's splinted knee. "Although, if your injury…"

"I'll be fine," Aneril said quickly. "I will head to Seaside right now."

"Good." Fariel nodded. "There's an outpost with a few soldiers…if it hasn't been overrun. Go through the Serpent's Grotto and look for Major Cirenwe. She's the commanding officer."

"Understood." Aneril saluted, and walked out of the Thalmor Headquarters with Vareysa. Her companion kept quiet until they'd reached the inn room to collect their things, then broke the silence when Aneril took off her splint.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Vareysa asked, watching dubiously as Aneril stood on her own two feet for the first time in days.

Aneril frowned, and walked slowly around the room – increasing her pace as she went along, until she'd broken into a jog. The knee was stiff and sore, and the bones didn't feel quite… _settled_  yet, but it was a discomfort Aneril could take into stride. Not for long, however – a stabbing pain in the knee brought her to an abrupt halt, and Aneril clutched tightly at her thigh.

"See, you're not ready–"

"I am," Aneril insisted through gritted teeth. Golden strands of magic gathered about her hand, then wound around Aneril's knee, driving back the pain and numbing the discomfort for the time being. She straightened herself and let out a breath, relieved the magic worked well. Aneril looked at Vareysa, and said, "I'll manage. Let's pack up and go."

Vareysa held Aneril's gaze – obviously unconvinced – but she turned around, and resumed packing her belongings without another word.

* * *

With Shur'azan padding alongside them, Aneril and Vareysa followed the path leading northeast out of Woodhearth. Though there were no signs pointing towards Serpent's Grotto, they turned onto the path that branched north from the main road, and it wasn't long before they reached a large cave mouth guarded by two Dominion soldiers. Aneril presented the medallion that marked her as an Eye of the Queen, and the soldiers nodded, allowing them entry.

The grotto itself had a few branching passages, but with the help of torches set up along the designated route, they traversed the cavern easily and soon emerged into the sunlight. The bridge to Seaside Sanctuary stood just before the grotto, and they found a squad of Dominion soldiers gathered by its entrance, along with Razum-dar and his own agents. A group of wounded sat at the side, being tended to by a single healer. Not a good sign.

An Altmer commander spotted them first, and she exchanged salutes with Aneril when they drew close. "The hour of our glory is nigh! Razum-dar forewarned me of your coming, and I have considered our circumstances carefully in light of that. I have the utmost faith in your capabilities, and I am confident that your arrival is an augur of our victory."

Aneril grimaced on the inside, feeling a weight drop onto her shoulders, but she kept her face straight. "Then I hope to meet your expectations. Major Cirenwe, I presume?"

"I am, and we have fought alongside many of the same soldiers. Words travels quickly when it involves heroics such as those attributed to you. I have anticipated the chance to meet you in person, and I am pleased the opportunity has finally arrived."

"The pleasure is all mine," Aneril replied, ignoring the brief desire to bury her head in the ground. She glanced quickly at the soldiers gathered. "But now – the Maormer?"

"Yes." Cirenwe clasped both hands behind her back. "The Maormer have landed and are currently holding the town – but not for long. This is the calm before the storm –  _our_  storm. They believe that holding hostages will prevent us from taking action, but we will not allow such cowardice to determine our course. We will act, and we will act decisively!"

Cirenwe pointed at the town. "We charge into their encampment, rescue the hostages, and slaughter their commanders. A fool scout we captured gave us their locations. You and Razum-dar shall spearhead our attack, while I rally the soldiers who will arrive soon from Marbruk. When your task is done, light the beacon in the lighthouse. That will be our signal to charge in and drive the bastards back to sea."

Aneril nodded and returned Cirenwe's salute, before going to speak with Razum-dar, who wore a slight smile on his face.

"Time to do what we do best, yes? This should be fun." He crossed his arms, tilting his head to look her over. "So how to display our heroism, hm? Will you tend to the hostages, or take out the commanders?"

Exchanging a glance with Vareysa, who shrugged, Aneril said, "We'll take out the commanders. You're more…subtle. Lowers the chances of getting the hostages killed."

"Ha, such praise. Raz should treat you to drinks sometime. But for now, he will see to our captive friends. Stay out of sight if you can – don't want to alert the Maormer to our presence."

"Of course. Good luck," Aneril replied, and turned to Vareysa as Razum-dar went off on his own. "Since we have to be stealthy…you take the lead?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Vareysa smiled, drawing her daggers.

* * *

They left Shur'azan with the injured soldiers, and made across the long bridge to the town. Aneril kept her head low and followed Vareysa, who moved along with nary a sound, picking their way from shadow to shadow as they searched for the three Maormer commanders. But for all their efforts at staying low, they were forced to attract the attention of their foes while fighting the commanders themselves.

The first Maormer commander was the easiest – he stood watch over a work crew in an isolated corner of town. Vareysa slit his neck with little effort, leaving his soldiers to panic over his body and search for murderers who were long gone. The second commander was stationed in an abandoned temple, with a full squad of soldiers standing guard with her. Aneril charged through the front door, protected by a magical barrier, and drew the Maormer's attention while Vareysa knifed the commander in the back. The loss of their leader caused a momentary confusion among the soldiers, during which Aneril and Vareysa dispatched them, suffering a few bruises in return.

The last commander was the greatest challenge – he stood at the command tent, with two squads patrolling the area. Vareysa objected to Aneril's plan, but was forced to accept it with no other alternative. She could only watch as Aneril cast a dragonknight spell that hardened her skin to stone, with cracks that revealed the dragonfire flowing beneath it, powering the magic. Vareysa turned invisible at her nod, and Aneril took two deep breaths to calm herself down, before setting her reckless plan into action.

She charged into the camp with a harsh shout, and the Maormer were taken aback by the stone-like appearance of their attacker. Aneril managed to down two Maormer soldiers, before she started suffering blows on her rock-hard skin. Trusting the spell to hold, Aneril fought off her foes with abandon, and glanced over to watch Vareysa plunge a dagger through the commander's neck.

Relief and pride welled up in Aneril – but not for long. Under the Maormer's relentless strikes, her protective spell had started to give way. She suffered a blade stroke across her shield arm, then a lightning spell to her side, causing her body to lock up. Aneril fought through the spasms to drive her sword through two more Maormer, then stepped back to avoid a sweeping strike from a greatsword. But her knee didn't respond well – pain lanced up her leg, and she faltered. The sharp blade bit through the scales of her armour, and left a long cut across her stomach.

Aneril threw herself back then, her knee screaming in pain as she landed on the ground. She lashed out with torrents of dragonfire from her fists, bringing down three soldiers at once. Vareysa fell upon the Maormer then, and dispatched the rest of them in a flurry of deadly-quick dagger strikes, with help from Aneril's fire spells. And when their foes lay dead around them, Vareysa knelt before Aneril, clasping her shoulders.

"You're hurt."

"I know," Aneril panted. Her skin's stony appearance faded, leaving numerous bleeding cuts in its place. "Give me a moment."

She healed the slash on her stomach first, then the rest of the cuts on her body. Aneril mended Vareysa's wounds as well, then laid a hand gently on her own knee. It was throbbing, and possibly swollen, but she hadn't the time to check at the moment. So she cast a stronger healing spell on the knee, hoping it would hold longer.

"It's bothering you, isn't it?" Vareysa asked.

"I'll be fine," Aneril muttered.

Vareysa helped her onto her feet, and they made for the lighthouse overlooking the sea. Inside, they found a single soldier, who'd been tortured and blinded by Vicereeve Pelidil. He recalled how Pelidil had raised Prince Naemon from the dead, and imbued him with a terrible power to lead an undead army, only to have the prince spit in his face and leave. The soldier also mentioned Pelidil being furious as he left, and that was all the information he had to give. Aneril told him to sit and wait for help, while they lit the beacon at the lighthouse.

Vareysa made Aneril stay for this simple task, and climbed up the stairs by herself to light the fire. It didn't take long before she returned, and they helped the blinded soldier out of the lighthouse, where they could hear the distant sounds of fighting. Opting to hold their ground, they stood guard at the lighthouse until Major Cirenwe finally fought her way to them with a victorious smile.

They handed the blinded man to another soldier, as Cirenwe said, "Well done, my friends. We'll have the sanctuary back under control quickly now, but we can't stop here. The battle's only just begun."

Aneril cocked her head. "I thought the plan was to drive the Maormer out?"

"So I had hoped. But it seems Vicereeve Pelidil had taken to sea even before we arrived." Cirenwe's lips curled into a sneer. "I suspect he may attempt to flee when he realises his forces have lost the shore. That's why I need you to go after him, and ensure he doesn't escape." She gestured towards the docks. "Captain Jimila and her crew have retaken the Prowler, and they're ready to set sail as soon as you get on board. May the winds be at your back, my friend. And may Pelidil fall quickly to your strength."

Aneril saluted, then bowed her head in thanks and took her leave. As they walked towards the docks, Aneril grimaced to herself, feeling the stiffness set into her knee again.  _Too soon…_  Either her spell was not properly cast, or her injury was worsening. She'd much prefer the former, as the latter would involve a risk of long-term physical impairment.

A touch on her arm drew Aneril from her musings, and she glanced over to find a worried frown on Vareysa's face.

"You okay?"

"Yes," Aneril sighed. "You cluck worse than a mother hen."

"Only because you insist on running around like a careless little chick, Anni dear."

Aneril rolled her eyes, but chose not to argue.

* * *

Jimila greeted them with great familiarity aboard the Prowler, and she sent them below decks to catch a breather, even a drink or a bite to replenish their energy. Aneril drained an entire mug of water, and Vareysa did the same, except she had a few strips of jerky as well. And while they were sitting at the counter, listening to the chef's story of how Jimila had led a daring rescue of the Prowler, sudden crashes on the top deck shook the kitchen they sat in.

Aneril and Vareysa left the cook behind and climbed up to the deck of the Prowler, where large scorch marks had marred the wooden floor. As they looked around, a hand collided into each of their napes, and forced them down as cannonballs flew over their heads, splashing harmlessly into the sea.

"Careful!" Jimila barked, letting them straighten up as she glared at Pelidil's ship, which sailed just a short distance from the Prowler. She growled upon noticing the glow of portals on the other ship. "They're boarding us!" Jimila roared, stepping away from the two. "Take arms!"

Her crew howled with the keenest bloodrage, and as soon as the portals appeared on the Prowler's deck, the sailors fell upon the Moarmer with terrifying fury. Only the sheer numbers of Maormer pouring through the portals could pose a challenge for Jimila's crew, and even then, they only held their ground for so long, before the sailors started pushing the sea elves back.

Emboldened by their success, Jimila ordered her crew through the portals, to board Pelidil's ship instead. Halfway through the boarding, their foes must've had realised their plan, as the portals aboard the Prowler were dissipated to stop their advance. Jimila ordered more of her sailors to swing over to Pelidil's ship with ropes, while the rest went below deck to man the cannons. She left Aneril and Vareysa to guard the empty deck by themselves, but as soon as Jimila swung over to the enemy ship, a portal blinked to life onboard the Prowler.

Aneril readied her conjured shield and bloodied steel sword, while Vareysa disappeared from sight, no doubt circling around the portal to strike the boarders from behind. Three Maormer soldiers walked out, and Aneril didn't give them time to react, charging towards them with sword at ready. She'd sunk her blade into one soldier's gut, and struck the next with her flame whip, when Vicereeve Pelidil himself strode out of the portal, anger etched upon his face.

While Aneril struck the second Maormer soldier down and faced the third, Vareysa appeared behind Pelidil with daggers raised. Unfortunately, he seemed to be prepared – swinging his staff behind to strike her in the ribs, taking her off guard. Vareysa recovered quickly and pounced forth, only to be struck squarely in the chest by a bolt of lightning.

Aneril heard her strangled scream, and quickly cut down the last Maormer soldier, turning around only to be given pause – Pelidil had Vareysa trapped in a binding spell, her arms bound to her sides as she floated an inch from the floor.

"That's enough," Pelidil said. "Move one step closer, and she dies."

Aneril glared at him, anger burning the blood in her veins. "Let her go."

"You are in no position to bargain. You, the little  _insect_  who has ruined our plans again, and again. You will finally obey me," Pelidil growled. "Now, put down your weapons."

Eyes narrowed, Aneril took a step towards him. But Pelidil's mouth curved into a smirk at her defiance, and he started closing his open hand, starting to glow crimson. Vareysa choked audibly as the same crimson glow appeared around her neck, cutting off her air supply. Aneril stopped dead in her tracks, watching with wide eyes as Vareysa's fingers convulsed, feet kicking in desperation.

"No, stop!" Aneril knelt down quickly, and threw her sword to the ground as she dissipated her shield. "There, stop! Let her go!"

"I never said I'd let her go." Pelidil's smirk twisted into a grin, as his fingers curled ever inward. Vareysa's kicking grew more forceful. "Besides, the life of one cursed elf means nothing."

"You bastard,  _stop!_ " Aneril tried to move forward, but paused when Pelidil's magic glowed brighter at her movement. She stared at Vareysa helplessly, watching her partner's kicks lose strength. Vareysa's mouth gaped without air, eyes rolling back far enough to expose a sliver of white.

"You're killing her!" Aneril yelled, throat growing tight. " _Stop!_ "

Pelidil chuckled. "What is this? Sympathy for the lesser races? How unbecoming. But I'd expect nothing less from one of Ayrenn's cronies. You have been a thorn in my side for too long, Eye of the Queen. Now, you will help me. Order your little pirate friends to–"

Aneril's fingers had dug into the planks of the floor in helplessness, but a movement in the air distracted her. She looked up just in time to watch Jimila swing back to the Prowler, throwing something out of her hand – a dagger, which sunk right beside Pelidil's shoulderblade.

He yelped in surprise and pain, starting to turn around as Jimila landed on the prow of the ship. Aneril seized the chance and rushed at Pelidil, slamming her entire weight into his body, and pinned him to the ground. While Vareysa crashed to the deck, Aneril rammed her fist into Pelidil's face over and over, vision growing red with each crack of gauntlet against bone. His cheeks, nose and mouth were reduced to a swollen, bleeding mess, when Aneril reared her bloodstained gauntlet back and channeled magicka into her hand. Dragonfire coalesced into a fiery claw about her fingers, and she swiped it viciously across Pelidil's neck, catching a bit of warm arterial spray on her cheek.

Pelidil twitched under her, and breathed his last amid a wet, undignified gurgle. Aneril knelt over him, panting as the mindless rage ebbed away, leaving her mind clear to think–

 _Vareysa_.

Aneril whipped her head around, finding Jimila already at Vareysa's side, holding onto her shoulder as she heaved and hacked for dear life. Practically throwing herself across the floor, Aneril scrambled over to her partner. She curled an arm under Vareysa's chest, and lifted her from the floor where she was still curled up. Vareysa clung onto her forearm with a hand, leaning heavily down as she continued gasping for air. Aneril waited patiently for Vareysa to recover, while Jimila went off to check on the rest of her crew.

Slowly, Vareysa brought her hand up to clutch weakly onto Aneril's shirt. Her head lolled to the side, and Aneril pulled her close, holding Vareysa firmly as she rested her head on Aneril's shoulder. Minutes passed as Vareysa's breaths evened out, though still deep and wracked with hitches.

"You know," Vareysa rasped, sniffling as she looked up. "I'm fine with being choked, but only up to a certain point." She clasped a hand on Aneril's arm. "For future reference."

Her laugh was marred with coughs, but it was light enough to sweep Aneril along with her humour. Aneril pushed her away in jest, then panicked and pulled Vareysa back again, when she slumped limply to the floor. But Vareysa's eyes were still open and alert – if half-dazed – and Aneril breathed a sigh of relief.

"When will you ever stop joking around?"

"When I die, probably," Vareysa uttered. "And I really thought I was gonna die there."

 _Me too_. Aneril bit her lip, as Vareysa lowered her gaze for a moment, before looking up again.

"Oh, hey." Vareysa reached up with a hand, and wiped at the blood on Aneril's cheek. "Don't you know? Never slit a throat from the front."

Aneril gazed back at her, and couldn't help but give an amused huff. "I really can't deal with you, sometimes."

Vareysa smiled, circling her arms around Aneril's neck as the warrior prepared to stand. Aneril lifted Vareysa's smaller frame easily in her arms, but when she took a step forward, she felt a stabbing pain in her knee and stumbled. Thankfully, she didn't fall over or drop Vareysa.

"It's your knee, isn't it?" Vareysa said. "I can walk on my own. I think."

"I'm fine. And we need to get to a healer." Aneril gritted her teeth, walking with a slight limp towards the stairs leading below deck.

"Aw. I knew you cared, Anni."

"I'm going to toss you into the sea," Aneril grumbled.

"No, you won't," Vareysa crooned, pinching her cheek. "'Cause you're a softie on the inside."

* * *

Though it wasn't the sea, Aneril did toss Vareysa onto a bed, and there she slept for the entire journey back to Seaside Sanctuary, while Aneril dozed in a chair beside her. When the Prowler sailed to a smooth stop at the docks, Vareysa was still fast asleep, so Aneril left her alone and reported to Major Cirenwe and Razum-dar, both of whom looked battered but glad to hear of Pelidil's death. The major bade her stay at Seaside to recuperate, and Aneril agreed – not that her aching knee gave her much choice.

Aneril and Vareysa were each given a bunk in the guard's barracks – now emptier after the Maormer invasion. And though the air was sombre with the loss of friends and comrades, the troops managed to find some time to celebrate their victory, the night after Pelidil's death. With fresh supplies the Marbruk reinforcements had brought, the soldiers had a modest feast, during which Cirenwe lauded Aneril's achievements publicly – much to her chagrin. It was an obvious effort to boost morale, and though the attention was positive, Aneril didn't want any of it. But she bore it all with a humble smile, before excusing herself on the pretense of getting some rest.

She wandered far from the camp, and found her own peace at the edge of town, sitting on a bench that faced the sea. Aneril took a deep breath of cool air, relaxing her tense muscles as she gazed out into the distance. Her mind went peacefully blank, and she sat there for a full half hour, in a near-therapeutic daze.

That was, until Vareysa arrived.

"I wondered where you'd hobbled off to."

A light-hearted sigh passed her lips, and Aneril turned her head to watch Vareysa take a seat beside her.

"Taking a break from all the admiration, huh?" Vareysa teased with a smile. "I guess even heroes need some private time too."

Aneril groaned, reminded of Cirenwe's praises. "I'm not a hero. And I don't want to go back there. They're so…tiring."

"Don't like the limelight?" Vareysa mused, and Aneril nodded. "I understand. I don't like attention either. Hey, don't look at me like that. It's true."

Aneril laughed under her breath, letting her incredulous expression fall away. "If you say so."

"I do say so." Vareysa leaned back in the bench, and stretched her arms over her head. "How's your leg doing?"

"Still aching. But better." Aneril rubbed at the spot above her splint absentmindedly. The healer said that her over-exertion had aggravated the wound, and it would take longer to heal now. Luckily, she didn't have to fear any permanent impairment.

"Good. Now we just have to make sure you rest, instead of running around saving the world, hm?" Vareysa grinned, rubbing Aneril's back in consolation. "By the way, you did good today."

Aneril huffed. "Thanks. You did good too."

"Of course I did! I didn't die today, and that's good to me," Vareysa declared, while Aneril regarded her quietly.

It was something Aneril did  _not_  want to experience again. Her fear had been painfully acute as she watched Vareysa suffocate near to death, while she knelt uselessly on the floor, ready to cave into Pelidil's demands. If Jimila hadn't appeared, Vareysa could've died due to her inaction – and the guilt welled up again, the longer she looked at Vareysa.

Aneril averted her gaze, nodding. "That's good, yeah."

She heard Vareysa chuckle, and received a nudge on her head. Then a familiar chuff made them look around, as Shur'azan walked over to them with a cloth satchel on his back, attached to his leather harness. Aneril cocked her head curiously at the two cylindrical shapes in the satchel, as Vareysa reached into the pack and pulled out two bottles of ale. She read the single note in the satchel, then handed it to Aneril with a snicker.

_[Best ale I can find in camp. Don't have too much fun, hm? At least, not in public. -Jimila]_

Aneril's cheeks burnt with a flush when she read the note. "What–, she's not implying–? But we're not–!"

"Sure we're not, lover." Vareysa wore a playful smirk as she popped off the corks with her dagger, and held one out to Aneril. "Here, let's see if I can't get you drunk enough tonight."

"Ugh, you're not helping," Aneril grumbled, taking the bottle.

"When do I ever?" Vareysa smiled, clinking their bottles together. "Cheers."

Aneril watched her take a hearty swig of the brew, then push the cub's head away when he tried to have a taste. A small smile curved Aneril's lips, and she took a long draught of ale as well.


	14. Chapter 14

With standing orders from the healer to rest, or risk maiming her leg forever, Aneril was forbidden from taking on any missions until her knee was fully healed. She chafed at the thought of sitting still and doing nothing for a whole week, knowing that Naemon's lich was wandering somewhere in Greenshade, but Vareysa brought up two valid points. One: the Dominion's army could deal with the lich even with one agent down, and two: Aneril could either choose to do nothing for just one week, or the rest of her life. It was sobering reminder, though Vareysa's flippant tone made it more of a friendly taunt, and Aneril had to refrain from sticking her tongue out at her companion.

They stayed in Seaside Sanctuary a day longer, before Major Cirenwe chased them back to Woodhearth, which had proper facilities for Aneril to recuperate in. Along with the other wounded, they hitched a ride aboard Jimila's ship, and sailed smoothly to Woodhearth's docks within the day. Though Aneril was offered a bunk in the guard barracks, she declined in favour of the inn, aware that Vareysa still drew a fair share of side glances from Dominion personnel. Still, the expense was worth it – Aneril much preferred the privacy of their own room, instead of the communal quarters the guards shared.

There wasn't much to do, and truth be told, the exhaustion coupled with her injury made her more than happy to just lie in bed, napping the days away. But though she spent much time curled up happily on clean sheets, she did hobble around town with Vareysa as well, her companion taking care to hold her by the arm so she wouldn't fall. An unnecessary precaution, but Aneril appreciated the concern all the same. Besides, Vareysa never prodded her into doing anything vigorous, so there was no harm in stretching her limbs on a leisurely stroll. Or, as they were doing now, sitting languidly on the shore, waiting for some hapless fish to get caught on their lines.

The sand here was coarser than the beach in Grahtwood, but it was only here that they could find some peace and quiet, seated by the border of the forest, some distance away from the docks. Barring the occasional rustle in the bushes behind them, they were able to relax and leave their blades lying by the cloth mat.

"So, question," Vareysa said, checking her line again. "Do you have a family name?"

Aneril cocked a brow. "You took this long to ask?"

"Well, do  _you_  know my family name?" Vareysa shot back, raising both her brows in challenge.

Aneril held Vareysa's stare, then rolled her eyes and conceded, "No."

"And you're still not going to ask? I'm heartbroken," Vareysa lamented. She stopped fidgeting with her fishing rod and leant back on her hands. "It's Nilven. Vareysa Nilven. What's yours?"

"I don't have one."

"Ah, I figured. The few Altmer I met back home didn't have one either."

"Yeah. It's rare for us to have a family name. Those who do are usually nobles, or are rich. Usually both," Aneril explained. She glanced briefly at the corner of the mat, where Shur'azan had just returned to deposit another seashell into his growing collection. "It's more common to bear the name of your Kinship – a clan. Kind of like your Great Houses."

Vareysa nodded. "Some Dunmer bear the name of their houses too."

"Mm. Most often, we'll just introduce ourselves by our singular name. But if I had to be more formal, I would use 'Aneril of Lillandril'."

"Ah – your home?"

"It's…where I was born and raised, yes," Aneril replied slowly.

"It sounds nice. 'Aneril of Lillandril'. Rolls off the tongue pretty well," Vareysa said with a smile, and Aneril huffed.

"I guess." She shrugged, looking out into the waters. "You said you were raised in…Balmora?"

"Yup."

"Do you belong to a Great House?"

"Ah, good question!" Vareysa waved a finger. "My mother's family is Redoran – the House of warriors whose expertise is combat and the inability to take a joke." She chuckled when Aneril looked at her curiously. "Gravity and taking life seriously and all that nonsense. Anyway, the family's pretty loyal to the House, but my mom never gave a rat's ass about the whole thing, so I guess I'm not as well?"

"Then it kind of works out, doesn't it? Since your job is to…eliminate House members?"

"Sharp," Vareysa commented. "Well, the Tong doesn't execute House members exclusively, but they make up a bulk of our writs. And, while I never tell anyone about my work, there's always a chance I've killed a member of the family. So it hasn't really endeared me to the relatives."

"Hm." Aneril looked to her. "But have you?"

Vareysa's lips curved in a sly smile. "That's for me to know."

Aneril sighed, turning back to the sea. "Sometimes, it hits me that I'm actually working with you."

Vareysa chuckled, knocking their shoulders together. "So, your turn. Do you belong to a clan?"

A blink, and her chest felt a slight bit hollow. "I…don't know anymore." Aneril lowered her gaze, then glanced over to find Vareysa listening attentively. "I just…haven't heard anything about home for a long time. Nearly 50 years."

"Huh. You were living in Auridon with the Fighters Guild, right?" Vareysa waited for her nod. "No letters?"

"Never read them," Aneril muttered. Her hand clasped onto her forearm unconsciously, gaze growing faraway in thought.

"You left home and never looked back," Vareysa said – part guess, part observation. And Aneril gave her no answers.

She fell into an awkward silence, then looked up when her fishing rod twitched downward, and grabbed her pole. Aneril tugged it up much too quickly out of eagerness, but the hook flung the fish out of the water regardless. Her catch hadn't been fully hooked, so it flew off the line and landed on the sand with a wet smack, flopping helplessly.

"Lucky," Vareysa said.

"Yeah. Shuri!" Aneril called, and the tiger in the distance turned around.

Shur'azan trotted back at a leisurely pace at first, but when he caught sight of the fish, he pumped his legs as if on a hunt, and pounced on the catch immediately.

"Gods," Vareysa laughed. "You'd think we were starving him or something."

Aneril sighed, "Such a greedy little boy."

* * *

After spending five days in Woodhearth watching squads of Dominion troops march out of the city, Aneril was about ready to tear off her splint and follow the soldiers to Marbruk, where they'd been reassigned in preparation for the coming threat. Only common sense and good counsel kept her strapping on the splint every morning, but even her counsel grew restless and playful after the days of enforced relaxation. So it was only a matter of time before Vareysa turned to Aneril, and recounted a story she'd heard at the bar, about an old Ayleid ruin where a group called the Merethic Society had set up a museum of antiquities.

A ruin was a dubious place to establish a museum, but Aneril's curiosity was piqued, and her legs were aching for a good long walk. Thus she and Vareysa decided to pay this museum a visit, and headed out of Woodhearth at noon. Though they'd set a slower pace than normal, they still made good time up the path, walking a much longer distance past the Serpent's Grotto, until the dirty white structures of an Ayleid ruin came into view. Other than the wooden sign hammered into the soil outside the heavy stone entrance, there was no sign telling of a museum's existence within. But they enter regardless – with Vareysa taking the lead this time, and they were met with the leader of the Merethic Society, Endarwe.

His greeting was odd indeed, "Welcome to Endarwe's Museum of Wonder and Antiquities. Normally, I'd tell you to avoid touching anything, lest you defile my sanctum, but the necromancers that came in before you have already ruined everything."

"Necromancers?" Vareysa grimaced. She turned around and took Aneril by the elbow. "Yeah, bad place. Thanks for the warning. Now, if you'll excuse us…"

Aneril started to move along with her, but they were quickly stopped by Endarwe, whose defeated mien was being overtaken by urgency.

"No, please! You look like fighters, you could help me," Endarwe said. "Those necromancers – dreadful people. From the Worm Cult, I believe." He looked perplexed when Aneril let out a long-suffering groan, but continued, "They destroyed numerous priceless artifacts, ruined décor, and killed my employees. Then turned my employees into  _their_  employees by raising them as undead!"

"Tragic, truly," Vareysa said. "Now we'll just give you some space…" She tugged on Aneril's arm, then narrowed her eyes in warning when Aneril didn't budge.

"I suspect they want to raise the centerpiece of my collection, the Ayleid Warlord Ceyran! Ceyran worshipped Daedra, and was generally an unpleasant fellow. Excellent as a museum attraction, terrifying as an undead."

Aneril's gaze slowly turned to meet Vareysa's, and as her partner started shaking her head, Aneril said, "I guess we can't let that happen, then."

Vareysa's head fell onto Aneril's shoulder as she gave a loud groan. "Aneril, have you forgotten that your knee is still recovering?"

"I'll be fine." Aneril placed a palm on Vareysa's cheek, and pushed her away before she could protest more. "Where is the body?"

"It's um…farther inside," Endarwe said, looking relieved.

"Right…"

Aneril listened to his directions, then instructed Shur'azan to stay with Endarwe. Taking Vareysa by the arm, she hobbled over to the first flight of stairs leading down, and said, "You take point. I'll cover you from the back."

"This is a  _very_  bad idea," Vareysa replied, drawing her daggers anyway. "You should stay behind."

"They're Worm Cult, Vareysa. I've seen them in action before." Aneril flexed her fingers, which sparked briefly with dragonfire. "You'll need some help, at least."

"Fine," Vareysa sighed. "But if I see you get off your crutch, I'll break your other knee so you can't walk until you're healed."

"That made no sense at all."

"Right. Like your current plan."

"Shut up," Aneril said, though she couldn't deny the faint laughter bubbling beneath the surface. Vareysa smiled briefly at her – still reluctant, but she ventured in ahead of Aneril.

The halls of the ruins were dangerous, patrolled by Worm Cultists and their undead abominations. Aneril worried that Vareysa would be unused to taking point in a direct assault – her specialty was subterfuge, after all. But the assassin took her new role in stride, always leaping in as an invisible figure to strike two targets, and send the rest into panic. While Vareysa let her cloak down and became the focus of the cultists, Aneril would step around the corner and fling searing lances of flame at their foes, bringing them down quickly.

The fights went smoothly, but were frustrating to Aneril, who had to lean on the crutch under her arm, and stay stagnant while casting her spells. Though it was a perfectly sound tactic – one often used in the warfront – she was used to charging up front, setting herself up as their enemies' target, so they wouldn't notice Vareysa. To stand behind and watch others go after her partner was…uncomfortable. But she did her best to compensate, throwing out a constant deluge of fire spells to keep the cultists off Vareysa's back.

With patience and diligence, they cleared the halls without suffering much damage. Vareysa's armour bore a few more scuffs, and Aneril's crutch had cracked when she smacked it on a cultist's head, but they were in good shape when they reached the final chamber. Towards the back of the chamber, there was a flight of stairs leading up to an altar, where a black-robed mage stood over a body wrapped in cloth – the Ayleid Warlord, Aneril assumed.

After a bout of silent argument with their hands, Vareysa pantomimed strangling Aneril before helping her down the flight of steps leading into the chamber proper, where Aneril wanted to be, in case Vareysa needed backup. While Vareysa vanished, Aneril hung back, completely unnoticed by the necromancer struggling to reanimate the warlord's corpse. The cultist seemed to be having great trouble, and finally let out a cry as she poured a vast amount of energy into it. But her spell backfired, and the bright blast of energy threw the cultist back – along with Vareysa, whose cloak fell away as she tumbled down the stairs.

"Ugh,  _shit!_ " Vareysa cursed as she hit the floor, scrambling back onto her feet. "Fucking  _ass bloody motherf–_ "

Aneril limped forward and threw a barrier spell at Vareysa – blocking the sharp shard of ice the cultist had thrown her way. As the cultist turned to glare at Aneril, Vareysa vanished again with a  _crack_ , reappearing behind their foe and sinking her blades into the unprotected neck. Or she would've, if the cultist hadn't moved.

The mage screamed when the daggers sank deep into her shoulders, and she whirled around on her feet, setting off another magical blast to blow Vareysa down the stairs again. Except the assassin had a grip on her robes this time, and they tumbled down the steps together. Vareysa managed to roll herself on top of the cultist when they landed on the ground, but as she lifted her daggers for a killing blow, the mage slammed her staff into Vareysa's temple and bucked her off.

Hauling herself onto her feet, the cultist conjured a barrier to fend off Aneril's spells, then let out an angered cry as her arms glowed a cold, dark blue – the skeletons lying on the ground around Aneril pieced themselves together, and rose to unlife.

 _Shit, shit!_  Panic poured over Aneril as she stumbled back with her crutch, shattering skeletons left and right with fiery claws and breath, while Vareysa tangled with the mage. Aneril was fortunate – with the mage kept busy by Vareysa, the skeletons were little more than fodder without explicit direction, and quickly fell under Aneril's frantic spellcasting. Their numbers were large enough to leave Aneril feeling drained of magicka at the end, but she still stood unharmed, if a little weakened by the exertion.

Aneril took a breath, then looked over to find Vareysa plunging both daggers into the mage's gut. Vareysa's lips parted in a wicked smile, but she savoured her victory too soon – the cultist's wrath erupted, and she blasted Vareysa back with such a force of energy that Aneril's blood ran cold. Vareysa tumbled painfully over the ground, and was left groaning as she tried to push herself up, when the cultist worked another spell. The cracked pillar beside Vareysa shone with a blinding blue, then shattered and collapsed on top of her, bringing down a good chunk of the rocky ceiling with it.

"Vareysa!" Aneril cried, limping forward in a forced run as her crutch clattered to the floor behind her. She glared at the cultist who turned to meet her with a bloodied grin, and sent forth two arrows of flame before her foe could react. The magic pierced through the cultist's chest, and she gurgled as more blood spilled past her lips, before she fell back onto the floor, lifeless.

Aneril didn't stop in her panic, hurrying to the heap of crumbled stone and rock. "Vareysa!" Aneril called as she bent down, ready to start clawing the Dunmer out of the rubble. "Oh gods, Vareysa, please–"

"Hey," came Vareysa's voice behind her, as a hand gripped her arm. "I'm here."

Aneril spun around so quickly, she could keep upright only because Vareysa was holding onto her. Relief flooded her veins as Vareysa flashed her a crooked grin.

"What, forgot I could teleport–?" Her words disappeared against Aneril's shoulder, when she was yanked in for a tight embrace.

Aneril could feel nothing but the woman in her arms, her own heart still pounding in her chest. She took a breath, smelling that subtle floral scent in Vareysa's hair, beneath the musk of exertion and the choking dust of age-old stone. Then she felt Vareysa chuckling against her.

"You know, I was going to say that my luck's been shit lately. But I think it just took a turn for the better."

The words took a few seconds to sink into Aneril, then she released Vareysa from the hug. Not that her companion shared her urgency – Vareysa grinned up at her, and gave her one last squeeze about the waist, before letting go as well. Heat rose to Aneril's cheeks, which she tried to hide on the pretext of wiping dirt from her face – it was needless, since Vareysa walked off to retrieve Aneril's crutch, but it made her feel better nonetheless.

She took her crutch from Vareysa gratefully, and they climbed the stairs together to have a look at the Ayleid's body. As they stood beside the altar, a confused spirit rose from the body, and denied being an Ayleid Warlord. Instead it claimed that his name was Nanwen, and he was a digger from Endarwe's excavation team, who had been caught in a cave-in. He mentioned that the team never found an Ayleid's remains, and asked to be led back to Endarwe. Aneril and Vareysa shared a frown, then picked their way back towards the entrance with the spirit in tow.

They found Shur'azan waiting by a naked mer's body, then drew their weapons when a black-robed cultist approached them. The stranger raised his hands, then lifted his hood to reveal that he was Endarwe in disguise, ready to make his escape by blending in with the cultists, using the robes he'd stolen from the unfortunate one who'd crossed his path. Endarwe glanced at Nanwen's spirit, and his face paled.

"We found him where you said the warlord was," Aneril said, voice low in threat.

"Of course you found Nanwen! What did you think you would find? An Ayleid warlord's body? Intact? I've looked for years and never found one!" Endarwe threw his hands up in exasperation. "But my museum collection needed a centerpiece, and Nanwen was crushed in a cave-in. So I…dressed him up." He didn't even deign to act embarrassed. "I realised that, if the Worm Cult managed to raise Nanwen, my secret would be known. Which is why I sent you to stop them. For what good that did me. I hope I can trust you to keep your mouth shut."

"So you sent us to risk our lives to cover your own sorry ass," Aneril growled, hands curling into fists.

"Yes, well. I'll pay you for–"

Vareysa looked at Aneril, not bothering to listen. "If I do anything now, I think I'd kill him. So will you do the honours?"

"Gladly." Aneril turned back to Endarwe, an evil smile on her lips. His expression had turned confused, when her fist rammed into his jaw, sending him to the floor unconscious. "Asshole," she spat, adjusting the crutch under her arm. "Vareysa, grab his coin pouch."

* * *

They grabbed his pouch, tossed a handful of coins at his inert body, then took Shur'azan and left the ruins behind. They made it to Woodhearth just as night fell, and soothed their ruffled feathers with a meal sponsored by Endarwe's pouch. At Vareysa's insistence, they stayed at Woodhearth for the next day, paying another visit to the healer for one last spell on Aneril's knee, before they left for Marbruk on the second morning.

By then, Aneril's leg was free of the splint, and she felt an old desire spark to life in herself – the desire to explore. She mentioned the maze-like ruins she'd seen during the Wilderking incident, and Vareysa agreed to take a detour from their route. After a day and a half of walking, they reached the ruined city of Greenheart – still abandoned since the turbulent ascension of the current Wilderqueen.

They did find, however, an old Bosmer couple by the entrance of the city – a husband who'd brought his dying spouse to see the flowers they'd admired in their youth. But there were none nearby, the grounds still withered and dry from fire. Aneril offered to search for some in the vicinity, and off they went on a hunt in the outskirts of Greenheart, where just two flowers remained. She took the seeds as the Bosmer had requested, but they returned only to discover that his husband had passed while they were away. He smiled and took the seeds gratefully, before settling beside his late husband to spend a few last moments with him.

They left him alone to his peaceful mourning, and made for the ruins. Climbing up the gentle grass slope, they reached the maze without trouble, but stopped in their tracks by the archway of its entrance when they saw a stone guardian standing just inside. But the guardian waved them in, and they stepped in carefully.

"Do you know how to read?" the guardian asked. And when they replied in the affirmative, if a little confused, he continued, "I am called Sumiril. I am one of the 'hollow'. We live to serve the Wilderking, who was our god and our creator. I ask if you can read because I have this book, which is supposed to tell the true story of the Wilderking, and of my creation."

He conjured a book in his hand and offered it to Aneril, who took it. "Can't you read it yourself?"

"I can, but I'm afraid to." The guardian tilted his head. "I am not like other Hollow. I can question my existence. I can believe or not believe. What if the book reveals something about the Hollow? Our purpose. I might crack and splinter from within."

"Alright," Aneril said, opening the book. "Sounds simple enough."

There was only one passage written in its pages, telling a story of a boy named Ostion, who wielded an impressive power to shape the land, but was alone. Aneril's heart sank at its familiarity, but she didn't stop to think when glowing letters appeared along the path before them, and the guardian urged them to follow. They walked deeper into the labyrinth with the letters' guidance, and were led to many altars which teleported them deeper and deeper into the maze.

With each teleport, more passages appeared in the book Aneril held, recounting how others wanted to test Ostion's powers by sending him to Valenwood, where he fought with the land itself, trying to bend it to his will. Ostion and the Valenwood grew to love their battle, for they were no longer as lonely as before, but in their clash, they forgot about the people around them – and Sumiril, who'd been kind to Ostion, was killed in the conflict. Ostion asked the Valenwood to raise Sumiril from the dead, and it agreed. The two were merged and became one, and Sumiril was their first creation – a hollow raised from the dead.

"Huh. So this Ostion was the Wilderking. You think he was the same one we met?" Vareysa asked.

Heart feeling flat, Aneril shrugged and closed the book, before they walked to the maze's exit where Sumiril stood, waiting for answers.

"The Wilderking was once a mortal," Aneril told him. "His name was Ostion."

"Mortal…like you?" Sumiril mused. "What happened to me?"

"You were one of the many who died during Ostion's battle with the Valenwood. Ostion regretted your death, and so he melded with the Valenwood to remake you."

Sumiril took the news quietly, standing stone-still for a few moments, before nodding slowly. He offered his thanks with a bow of his head, and walked back into the maze. Aneril stared after him, then sighed to herself, and started down the slope leading away from the maze, towards the main road.

"So…that was fun," Vareysa said tentatively, peering at her brooding expression. "You alright?"

Aneril nodded. She kept walking in silence, but when Vareysa seemed to hover over her, she relented, "He doesn't even remember how he came to be."

"Yeah?"

"Then…do you think the Wilderqueen does?"

Vareysa thought it over. "Aranias?" When Aneril nodded, she said, "I'm sure she'd remember, in some way. I mean, she  _would_  remember you at least, right? Since you helped her ascend and all that…"

"I'm sure she does," Aneril replied. "But even as I left her behind in the tower…I could already feel Aranias slipping away. I don't think she lives within the Wilderqueen anymore. And what's left is just…memories of someone else, you know?"

"Makes sense, yeah." She waited for Aneril to continue, but was met with silence. "You…got quite attached to her very quickly."

Aneril heaved a sigh. "She was young, and being manipulated. I wanted to help her, but she's just  _gone_  now." She stopped walking, hands raised in helplessness. "It felt like a damned  _sacrifice_. She sacrificed her own life to keep the peace in Valenwood. She didn't even get the chance to come to terms with her life."

"You're upset that she didn't live on, as herself," Vareysa ventured, and Aneril gave a vague nod. "It was out of your control, Aneril. And I'm sure Aranias lives on in the Wilderqueen…somehow. She  _is_  helping you now, isn't she?"

Emptiness carved its way into her chest, and Aneril dropped her hands, shrugging. Vareysa smiled gently, and reached forward to take her hand, leading her up the road to Marbruk.

"Come on, Aneril. You've done your part for Aranias, as she has done for you. I'm sure she'd want you to move on, and keep helping others as you've helped her."

Aneril kept quiet, pondering Vareysa's altruistic words that she would've dismissed at other times. But for now, she was content to accept them, and the comfort they were supposed to give. Aneril glanced up at Vareysa, who had her eyes to the front, and she squeezed her fingers around Vareysa's, seeking warmth against her cold skin.


	15. Chapter 15

When they reached Marbruk, it didn't take long to notice that the city was all in a buzz – the quiet sort, one more of fear and anxious waiting. Aneril had experienced it many times in Cyrodiil, whenever her camp received reports of enemy movement in their vicinity and went into high alert. In a military camp, this alertness was more organised – soldiers grabbed their weapons, took up positions, and hunkered down to wait for the oncoming threat. Here, though? All she could see were nervous civilians wringing their fingers helplessly, hoping the soldiers guarding their city could stave off the unknown threat.

All that fighting back in Cyrodiil, and danger still managed to find its way to their homes. Damn it all.

Since the sky was dark, Aneril decided to lodge at an inn before reporting to the Queen. After all the trekking, even Shur'azan seemed grateful for a more homely quarters, and plopped himself onto Aneril's bed for the night. The next morning, Aneril kept her ears pricked in the tavern below, and was half-relieved to know that no one had discovered the name of this looming threat. All the whispers she heard were just gossip or ridiculous conjecture, nothing about a lich that would surely send them running. But one fact they all got right – the mustering of soldiers at the north and south gates was a sign of danger to come.

With that in mind, Aneril ate her breakfast quicker, eager to join in the Dominion's plans. But it seemed the Queen had beaten Aneril to the thought, and sent a runner who found her at the inn, relaying the Queen's request for Aneril to report to the royal residence at her earliest convenience. Giving her assent with a nod, Aneril then scalded her tongue by gulping down her tea too quickly, rising from the table and leaving behind one amused companion, while the other stared after her in confusion.

Aneril strode purposefully across the city, and took a moment to straighten her uniform at the steps of the Queen's residence, while the guards announced her arrival. At the Queen's affirmative reply, Aneril entered the small manor, and saluted as the door was shut behind her.

Queen Ayrenn bore a visible hint of exhaustion and gravity, but her gaze still carried the same warmth that set Aneril at ease. "Aneril, it is good to see you," Ayrenn said with a gentle smile. "I hear you've been busy, my friend. That is good. According to Razum-dar's reports, it seems Pelidil…"

"Betrayed us," Aneril filled in when Ayrenn's voice trailed off. "He will do no further damage, Your Majesty."

Ayrenn nodded. "It is good that you brought him to his end. But I hope you aren't too weary, my Eye." She clasped Aneril on the shoulder. "Pelidil may be gone, but his actions are being felt across Valenwood. We have much to do."

"Then I am at your–" Aneril was cut off when the door swung open without ceremony, and she turned around to find Captain Sarandil marching in briskly, snapping off a salute.

"Apologies for the interruption, Your Majesty. But the undead are massing Driladan Pass."

 _Naemon_ , was the first thing to cross Aneril's mind. Pulse quickening, Aneril glanced at the Queen, whose thin mask of cheer had disappeared, revealing the strain on her youthful countenance.

"A lich lord commands them, and he wears the royal crest."

Ayrenn's face fell, a myriad of emotion warring across her expression, before she screwed her eyes shut. " _Naemon_ ," she whispered, briefly covering her face with a hand to recollect herself. Then she lifted her head – with a placid mask over her features – and took a quiet breath. "I must beg your indulgence," Ayrenn said to Aneril, seeming more distant. "But I cannot speak just now."

She took another breath, and Aneril caught the tremble in her bottom lip. But Ayrenn quickly purses her lips together, then gestures pointedly at Sarandil, dismissing Aneril with a curt nod. Aneril saluted, but the Queen didn't wait to receive it – merely turning back to the fireplace with her head bowed, hands clasped behind her back. Aneril hesitated, but gave Ayrenn the space she wanted, and moved away to speak with Sarandil.

Sarandil briefed her quickly on the situation at the frontlines – which didn't seem to be holding well – then bade Aneril join the defense, while he rallied as many other soldiers as he could. They turned to the Queen, and passed a second in awkward indecision, before leaving Ayrenn to her thoughts and making their way outside. While Sarandil jogged off, Aneril looked around, and found Vareysa and the cub sitting by the pond beside the Queen's manor.

"Oh, hey." Vareysa looked up when Aneril's shadow fell over them, but Shur'azan kept dipping his paw into the pond, scaring the fishes away. "What's up?"

"Time to go," Aneril said under her breath, as Vareysa stood. "The lich is here."

Vareysa groaned. "That's fast. And I don't suppose he's got that army with him?"

Aneril nodded and grabbed Vareysa by the arm, pulling her along before the Dunmer could gripe further. It took a few paces before Vareysa finally freed her arm from Aneril's grasp, and they strode up to the northern gate, where a full squad of soldiers was standing guard. They were granted passage through the gate, and walked only a good handful of paces before they could see the fighting in the distance – soldiers fighting with an army of armoured skeletons.

They looked for the scout coordinating Marbruk's defenses, and were directed to one of the Vinedusk Rangers sent by King Camoran to aid the city. The captain of this Ranger contingent was Bodring, a hardened veteran who wore his experience as visibly as his leather armour. He didn't take long to catch them up to speed – Naemon was the lich leading the undead army, which grew larger each time a Dominion soldier fell to them. Bodring could hold them back for the time being, but he'd need Aneril to rescue the Khajiit Mane Akkhuz-ri, who was stranded in an old merchant tunnel with a squad of soldiers.

Losing the Khajiiti leader would deal another serious blow to the Dominion, which meant this mission was of the utmost priority. Aneril accepted the mission, and watched as Bodring ran off, loosing an endless hail of arrows into the battlefield, which pierced a skull with every strike. She tore her eyes away from the masterful display, and was about to draw her sword when she turned back to look at the cub standing behind them.

Shur'azan gazed up Aneril as she knelt down, fishing a medallion out of her belt pouch. It was the badge of an Eye of the Queen, and Aneril looped its short rope through the cub's leather harness, tying it securely below his neck.

"I want you to stay there, Shuri," Aneril instructed, directing his gaze towards Marbruk's gates. "Stay there and wait for us. If bad people want to hurt you, run through those big doors, okay?" She smiled when Shur'azan chuffed and rubbed his head against hers, as if in concern.

"We'll be okay, Shuri. Just take care of this for me, alright?" Aneril lifted the medallion dangling from his harness. "I'll come back for it when I'm done."

Shur'azan chuffed again, a resolute quality entering his blue eyes. He was reluctant when they chased him towards the gates, but he relented, padding over to his safe spot while looking over his shoulder periodically.

 _We'll be fine_ , Aneril wanted to reassure the tiger again, but steeled herself. She drew her sword and conjured her shield, then looked to Vareysa. Her partner nodded with a smile – and off they went on a mission.

* * *

Their trek up to the merchant tunnel was easy enough, even if it was fraught with danger and chaos. Battle raged all around them, and they were forced to pick their way through the mess of soldiers crossing swords with their skeletal counterparts. They ran past most of the fighting, and stopped to help the occasional soldier caught in a losing battle, but were able to make good time to the worn wooden door of the tunnel.

Urgency still burnt in Aneril though, as they  _did_  waste some time offering aid in the battlefield, so she tossed caution to the wind and delved in without much thought. In her defense, it didn't really need much thought, when one's enemies were just mobile skeletons best fitted for fodder. While Vareysa focused on the few flesh atronachs and Heritants with her daggers, Aneril bashed her way through countless skeletons with her shield, the crunch and crack of bones turning to white noise in her ears.

Though the impact of numerous collisions started to strain her arms, Aneril was given reprieve when they stumbled upon a guarded cave chamber, where their target stood waiting for them – Mane Akkhuz-ri. He returned Aneril's salute, and received her with much relief and gratitude. Akkhuz-ri nodded in assent when Aneril suggested he made his way back to Marbruk, but did not hasten to leave just yet. He expressed concern about the source of the undead – the risen Naemon, whom he'd seen with his very own eyes.

A question was raised though, when Akkhuz-ri confirmed Naemon's departure from the area. His disinterest only proved that the destruction of Marbruk wasn't his main goal, but something else. Akkhuz-ri asked Aneril to uncover this mystery, then introduced her to the Bosmer who sought to solve it as well – Indaenir.

The mer was calm, quiet but sure-spoken, and radiated a worldly aura that made Aneril trust his words implicitly. Indaenir talked about 'the Shade', an undead entity that had assumed Naemon's form, and how they needed to uncover its intentions with this assault on Marbruk. He had a plan – to commune with the accursed souls who were bound to Driladan Pass for violating the Green Pact. Since they couldn't be raised by magic, and had been here when the undead army marched in, they might know something of the Shade's motives.

And so, they marched back into the Pass with Indaenir as their guide, protecting him as he led them through the woods. It wasn't a difficult task – Indaenir had an impressive grasp of magic, and fought alongside them as they gathered three skulls for the communion. Then he led them up a gentle rise to an altar he called the 'Stone Table', and set the skulls on its surface, performing a quick but intense ritual that made Aneril feel a chill beneath her armour.

The skulls came alive – as much as they could – and mocked Indaenir's attempts at interrogation. But it was easy enough to make them cooperate, after Indaenir pointed out that Naemon couldn't release their cursed souls, while  _he_  could. The skulls fell silent for a brief moment, before feeding them the information they wanted to hear – Naemon sought to corrupt Valenwood, and create a new realm called the Shadow Wood.

Aneril's mouth curled faintly at how…pedestrian it sounded, and a glance at Vareysa's eye roll was enough to tell that her partner felt the same. Fortunately Indaenir had turned his attention to the altar, and released the condemned souls from their bondage, the air around them losing that icy chill. Indaenir kept his head bowed a few seconds longer, then turned to them, face set. He could feel the Shade's corruption in the woods, Indaenir said, and asked them to accompany him to these 'shadow rifts', where the dark realm was bleeding into their world. He possessed some ability to mend the Green, but it required all of his focus and energy, so he'd need their protection while he closed the rifts.

Aneril nearly elbowed Vareysa when the Dunmer twirled her dagger with a bored yawn, but for all her apparent disinterest, Vareysa held her blades at ready, and kept pace with Aneril as they followed behind Indaenir. The shadow rifts were spaced at a distance from one another, and it took some hiking for them to find the first ritual site, where Heritant and skeletal mages were holding the rift open.

Aneril and Vareysa took care of the mages, then stood guard over Indaenir while he closed the rift. They repeated this process at the next rift without trouble, but when Indaenir had closed the last in a cave, a cold voice rang in their ears,  _'You meddle with forces you can never understand.'_

Before she could react, Aneril was stricken still, gasping as chill winds rushed through her body and down her throat, stealing her breath. She was left bending over, coughing when it ended, then raised her head to find her companions in the same shape. Aneril glanced at Vareysa, who'd straightened herself, but was feeling about her neck with a dark look in her eyes. A memory of crimson ghosted through Aneril's mind, and she grasped Vareysa's arm, not letting go until she was given a tight smile.

Together, they turned to Indaenir, who was looking around them with brows furrowed. They still stood in the same cave, but their surroundings were notably sapped of sunlight, and barely lit by the dim glow of what seemed like moonlight.

"The Shadow Wood," Indaenir guessed, pacing about. "This must be what the Shade seeks to transform Valenwood into. A realm of darkness and evil. It's inconceivable!" His hands curled into fists, and he looked up resolutely. "We have to stop this. But first – let's get out of here. There must be some place…where life and death intersect."

He cocked his head, then snapped his fingers almost immediately. "That's it! The Stone Table. Let us go."

Close on Indaenir's heels, they retraced their steps through the forest, taking more care in this dark plane. They avoided pockets of concentrated corruption, wound their way around lurchers and imps, and finally returned to the Stone Table. A figure made of shadows floated before the Table in silent meditation, though its feet touched the ground when it noticed their presence.

It didn't seem quite magically-inclined in combat, opting to lunge at them with a sword and shield made of pure darkness. Aneril clashed with it head-on, enduring the curious and disturbing impact of her foe's blade, which sent an unnatural chill through her body with each ring of shadow on steel. She suspected it would start impeding her movements if the battle lasted longer – but Aneril was spared from having to find out, as her two skilled companions brought the shadow down with great efficiency.

Their foe fell to the ground, its body dissipating visibly along with the realm it had created. And soon, they were standing in the dense green of Valenwood again, with shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Aneril exhaled in relief, then looked over to check on her partner. Vareysa patted off the specks of dirt on her leathers, before catching Aneril's eye and cocking her head with a slight, curious smile. Without thinking, Aneril gave a half-shrug, then hastily turned her gaze to Indaenir.

Despite their success – or Aneril thought it was – Indaenir seemed troubled as he looked into the distance, then shook his head sadly. "Our circumstances are even worse than I imagined. I can feel the corruption of the Shadow Wood expanding across the forest. I fear it's too late to contain it. We must find the Shade of Naemon himself, here on this plane, if we are to stop him."

"Then that is what we shall do," Aneril stated, matter-of-fact. "Do you have any idea where he is?"

"I know not, but I certainly intend to find out." Indaenir's gaze drifted, and he pointed to the north. "I feel something farther up there. That is where I shall investigate. But first, you must inform the Dominion of what we've learnt here. We need to keep them informed. Don't worry," he added with a smile, when Aneril started to speak. "When the time is right, the forest will help me find you again. Until then, be safe."

Surprised by how easily he read her, yet also frustrated at his vagueness, Aneril could only watch wordlessly as Indaenir strode off. She wrestled down the faint lick of irritation, made easier when she found an amused smile on Vareysa's face, her partner picking up on her vexation.

_At least someone's being entertained by this._

Aneril nodded towards Marbruk, and Vareysa fell in beside her for their trek back to the city. Their journey was shorter this time, unimpeded by a battle that had ended, and they were treated to the sight of bone-littered grounds as they neared the gates. It was there that they found Bodring, who'd sustained a few nicks and scratches, but was otherwise unharmed. He expressed immense relief at their victory, though he also made a shrewd guess that destroying Marbruk was not the undead's top priority.

"No, Naemon seeks to corrupt all of Valenwood," Aneril explained, and Bodring took the news quite calmly.

"Then it's as the Mane suggested. Magical forces are at work here that we can't fight with sheer numbers." He crossed him arms, thinking. "I'm just glad we have you and Indaenir to sort this out. If you need us, my Vinedusk Rangers and I are here to support you. Are you going to rejoin him now?"

"I'm..afraid not. He didn't tell me where he is, only said he would find me."

"Ah. In that case, give us a call when you need us." Bodring saluted Aneril, then glanced back at the forest. "Now, if there's nothing else–?"

"Hang on," Vareysa cut in. "Where's our tiger?"

Aneril blinked, then looked at the grounds before Marbruk's gates – where Shur'azan was _not_ waiting for them. Her heart leapt in panic, but was soon soothed when Bodring gave his reassurance.

"Don't worry, I sent the cub into the city, where it'd be much safer. You can find him…there he is."

They followed Bodring's gaze to where the heavy wooden gates were being pushed open, allowing a white blur to dart out between them. Aneril knelt down to receive the greeting, and had the air knocked from her lungs when the cub flew right into her chest.

"You worrywart," Aneril laughed when Shur'azan bumped and pawed at her head. "I told you we'd be fine, didn't I?"

Shur'azan chuffed and licked her cheek with the tip of his rough tongue, then pounced on Vareysa to lavish her with the same treatment. Aneril watched with a smile as Vareysa clamped her arms around the cub's neck in a hug, nearly wrestling him to the ground. Her gaze drifted to Vareysa's bright grin, and she felt a slight ache in her chest.

* * *

Since there was plenty of daylight left, Aneril chose to gather their belongings, and set off in the direction Indaenir had pointed out. With the cub trotting happily beside them, they took the main road leading north through Driladan Pass, and had walked for nearly an hour when they came upon the outskirts of a quiet grove. They paused with hands on hilts when someone ran out to them, but they relaxed upon realising it was none other than Indaenir.

He seemed quite troubled, and only spared a quick greeting before revealing the source of his concern – Verrant Morass, this grove which was suffering from the effects of Naemon's corruption. The Bosmer in the area were feral, suffering from a strange blight spreading from the trees, that turned them into rabid beasts. But they could stem the spread of this blight with the help of Standing Stones, which the ancient Bosmer had used to protect themselves from an aggressive forest.

Aneril readily agreed to help him, unaware of Vareysa's side glance as she drew her sword. She cast a sturdy protection spell over the cub, who didn't exactly have a safe place to stay and wait, and they ventured into the grove with Shur'azan following from a distance. Avoiding as many feral Bosmer as they could at Indaenir's urging, they slew only the few who stood in their path towards the Standing Stones. And when all three of the grove's Stones had been activated, Indaenir led them down a tunnel into the 'Eldest Den', where an ancient strangler called the Eldest resided.

His brows furrowed at the oppressive air about them, and he nodded grimly, confirming his suspicion that the Eldest had been corrupted as well. Since it was the lifeblood of the forest, they had to kill it to stop the blight from spreading through Valenwood. So they delved into the tunnels, finding the Eldest in the deepest chamber. It was large, nearly reaching Aneril's shoulders, and was armed with numerous sharp vines. They engaged it with much care, successfully avoiding the vicious thrusts and whips of its vines – until its gaping, teethed maw opened wide, and a sickly-green tongue whipped forward to wrap around Aneril's torso.

Aneril's head spun in disorientation when the Eldest yanked her close, and she'd lifted her sword too late, letting out a cry when a barbed vine pierced through her cloth-covered abdomen. She tried to pull herself free, but felt an alarming sensation akin to having her blood sucked out by the vine in her stomach. Her limbs grew weak, head light as her heart pounded in her chest, when wicked sharp steel swiped the air before her. The vine holding Aneril captive was sliced in two, and Vareysa wrenched her away, allowing Aneril to fall backwards into Indaenir, who caught and lowered her to the ground.

While he numbed Aneril's stomach with magic and pulled the vine from her body, she watched Vareysa engage the Eldest in single combat, ending the bout quickly by slicing open the top of its bulb-like head. Vareysa cut the strangler's head twice more to ensure it was dead, before joining Aneril where she sat on the ground, being tended to by Indaenir. He mended her wound under a shimmering green glow, then smiled up at her in the affirmative.

Aneril rose to her feet with Vareysa's help – and Shur'azan's nose poking at her thigh – while Indaenir walked over to the Eldest, kneeling down to retrieve the its vine-and-bark heart. But as he lifted it from the strangler, the world around them dimmed – a tell-tale sign that they'd been thrust into the Shadow Wood once more. Indaenir first examined the heart he held, and tied it to his belt when he confirmed it was undamaged. Then he looked around them, tapping his chin in thought, and suggested purging the blight from the corrupted trees, to combat the Shadow's influence.

He led them to the trees afflicted by the blight, and at each tree they found a spirit tied to it, similarly corrupted. The spirits attacked them on sight, but it worked out well – when they were slain, the dark tendrils wrapped around their tree disappeared, freeing the wood from taint. And when they'd saved the last tree, a shadowy figure appeared before them – identical to the one they'd faced in Driladan Pass. They dispatched this foe with ease, and soon found themselves back in Valenwood again.

Indaenir seemed quite happy with the results this time – they'd saved the Eldest's heart so it could be replanted, and the feral Bosmer were no longer aggressive. Though he mentioned there was still much corruption in the forest, he thanked them with a look of tranquil satisfaction.

* * *

Indaenir chose to stay in the grove, and tend to the Bosmer who'd been left senseless by the corruption. He politely declined any help, then directed them towards a hill in the northeast, where they could rest in a safe place called Echo Pond. It was only a short walk from the grove, and they soon learnt how it earned its name. At the top of the hill was a pond, surrounded closely by a copse of trees, which offered them some measure of privacy and safety for the night. And whenever they made a sound, it seemed to reverberate through the leaves around them, so they could  _feel_  rather than hear the 'echo'.

The place was nice enough – Aneril thought this was the best spot they'd found in Greenshade so far. From where she lay in her bedroll beside the pond, she could hear the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the call of birds in the distance, and that special quality of the open air on a quiet night. She kept her eyes closed, and when her mind wandered far enough, she could almost imagine herself back in Summerset, lying on soft green grass under the clear, starlit sky. Her hand shifted from her stomach, reaching for the coarser blades of grass on the ground, and she opened her eyes slowly. Homesickness washed over her, and as always, it lingered only for a short moment, before being shaken off by Aneril.

Taking a quiet breath, she turned her head to the side, where Vareysa was still crouching in the shallow end of the pond, with her pants rolled up to the knees. She was scrubbing away at Shur'azan's fur, which had caught a lot of dirt during their time in the grove.

"Stay still, Shuri!" Vareysa cooed, catching the cub's head between her hands. "You want to be clean, don't you?"

Shur'azan snorted at her, then gave a loud, friendly growl when Vareysa smooshed his cheeks together.

"My cute little baby," Vareysa sang as she went back to work, guiding the cub this way and that, so she could get every spot of dirt on his body. Shur'azan occupied himself by patting and licking at the water, and when Vareysa was done, he let out a roar and raised his front paws. Before Vareysa could react, he slammed his paws down into the pond, getting a shriek of surprise from the mer when water splashed all over her front.

Aneril chuckled, a fond smile parting her lips as she watched Vareysa grapple with the cub, who wriggled playfully in her hold. She had half a mind to join them in the pond, but the idea was forgotten when her gaze rested on Vareysa. She looked so sprightly and affectionate, as she usually was around her companions, that Aneril could hardly reconcile this part of her with that cold and placid mask Vareysa wore in battle. Her warmth was something Aneril had come to appreciate, but the assassin's professional mien gave her comfort as well – it meant Aneril had someone capable watching her back, even in the thick of trouble.

Vareysa had been with her for six months now, so Aneril thought it was only natural that she'd gotten used to her companion. Still, Vareysa always wore her different faces with that same poise and deadly elegance, and Aneril had to admit that it made her beautiful, in her own way.

Red eyes turned and made contact with hers, and Aneril wrenched her gaze away to look at Shur'azan instead. Vareysa rose to her feet, leaving the cub to play around in the water by himself, while she walked over and knelt by the bedroll. Aneril jerked in surprise when her shirt was yanked up to reveal her stomach, and she smacked Vareysa's hand away, pulling her shirt back down.

" _What_  are you doing?"

"Just checking," Vareysa said with a smirk. "He did heal you a little quick… Wasn't sure if he did it properly."

"He's capable."

"If you say so." Vareysa lay on the grass beside Aneril with a sigh, which turned into a loud groan of satisfaction. She arched her back for a good stretch, before lying down again.

"Your work is killing me, Aneril," Vareysa said. "It's like a neverending parade of 'excitement'."

"Don't remind me," Aneril groused. "I'm  _this_ close to resigning."

"Resign? Ha!" Vareysa laughed. "You aren't the type for that. At least, not when your pretty little Queen still needs you."

Aneril sighed, keeping silent. Being an Eye of the Queen had been very demanding, and though it did leave Aneril feeling exhausted, sometimes on the verge of quitting, her missions were often for the greater good. To complain about a noble duty would be quite shameful indeed…

"If it's any consolation," Vareysa said beside her. "What you're doing is good. The stuff of heroes, even. You insist on helping others, and saving lives even when you're tired. That's something to be proud of, at least."

Aneril's heart clenched, and she turned her head to look at Vareysa, whose eyes were closed. Her gaze roved from the beads of water dotting Vareysa's forehead, to the sharp bridge of her nose, and thin lips that were slightly parted in repose. Aneril lost her breath for a second, and she took a sharper inhale as she turned her eyes back to the few stars in the sky. Her heart thudded noticeably in her chest, mind aflutter, then she realised Vareysa had paid her a compliment.

"You helped," Aneril said. "You've been there with me for all of it."

"I know," Vareysa lamented, laughter dotting her breath. "Must be the darkest time of my life."

 _Really?_  Aneril glanced at Vareysa out of the corner of her eye, and found her partner looking back at her, with a soft smile.

_Doesn't feel like it for me._


	16. Chapter 16

They lingered at Echo Pond in the morning, reluctant to leave this haven amid a forest slowly falling to corruption. But they made use of the time to take stock of their supplies and consult the map, deciding their food stash was running too low for a journey of uncertain length. Even with Shur'azan hunting his own food – sometimes even hunting some meat for them too – it'd be safer to have a decent supply on hand, just in case.

So they swung down south, trekking through Driladan Pass discretely to avoid any lingering undead or necromancers, and reached Marbruk just before noon. They had a solid meal at the inn, anticipating many lean days on the road, then visited the marketplace to fill their bags to a respectable weight, before heading up through the city's northern gate. This time, they followed the road west instead, thinking to search around Greenshade for Indaenir – the very thought of whom still made Aneril want to strangle him, for not setting a proper destination to meet.

Their chosen path seemed peaceful enough – the lush, healthy green of the forest almost made them wonder if they should change course. But they paused when the blue, cloud-dotted sky turned dark as a storm, a grinding siren akin to a crude war horn sounding in the distance, while the ground they stood upon rumbled with tremors. Aneril looked up, and her body grew cold at the sight of a Dark Anchor floating in the sky, dropping hooks that sunk deep into the soil of Greenshade. A spin of the contraption's wheel snapped the heavy chains taut, beginning to tear chunks of Nirn into Coldharbour.

Vareysa took a step closer to her, and Aneril became aware of the stricken look on her own face. This was hardly the first time she'd seen an Anchor – they fell in Cyrodiil as well – but this was the first time after her soul had been…

Swallowing tightly, Aneril tried to breathe and ignore the subtle tug within her chest – her empty, soulless chest. She glanced at Vareysa and nodded at the Anchor, but motioned for her companion to keep her daggers sheathed. Aneril led Vareysa and the cub closer to the Anchor, staying behind a thick brush just far enough to hide their presence, and still provide a good view of the Fighters and Mages Guild uniforms.

"We'll only disrupt their maneuvers if we charge in now," Aneril explained. "But let's stay in case they need help. This one's too close to Marbruk."

"Ever the hero," Vareysa muttered, though she gave no protest as they remained hidden, watching as the two Guilds worked to destroy the Anchor.

Their movements were fluid and organised, perhaps from practice or a very well-thought out plan. They managed to cut down waves of Daedra, while the mages weaved strong magics to destroy the pinions holding the chains in place. A few wounded had to hobble off to a safe distance, leaving their comrades to deal with the final onslaught of Daedra – and a sudden turn in the tide.

A hulking flesh colossus materialised with a squad of dremora, and a single swipe of the colossus' huge cudgel of a hand sent the Guilds flying. With a third of their people down, they managed to rally and take down most of the dremora, but still found themselves being pummeled into submission by the colossus, which barely seemed to slow under the flurry of slashes and spells.

"This is painful to watch," Vareysa said, drawing her daggers while Aneril unsheathed her sword.

"Shuri, stay here." Aneril ignored his huff of protest, and conjured her shield. "Vareysa, let's go."

They ran down the gentle slope towards the Anchor, taking the Guild members by surprise. But they fell back gratefully for a breath, while Aneril baited and dodged the colossus's attacks, and Vareysa teleported high into the air for choice strikes at the back of its neck. The colossus spun and howled in fury, unable to catch the gnat stinging at its body, but the Guilds' re-entry into battle provoked an unfortunate reaction from the creature.

Swinging its cudgel in an arc over the ground, it knocked most of the fighters back in one swipe. Aneril was safe from the blow where she stood right between the colossus's feet, but she didn't have time to process her luck when she saw Vareysa falling to the floor painfully – inertia had flung her off the creature's shoulders. Aneril darted forth when the colossus raised its cudgel again, and she grabbed Vareysa's body, flinging themselves forward to _narrowly_ avoid the strike that shattered aged stone behind them.

Aneril bent over Vareysa protectively, rubble raining onto her back, then turned around to find the Guilds back on the colossus again. This time, a mage pair wove a spell that bound the colossus's legs together, making it keel over to the ground. Fighters dove in to pin its arms down with blades, while their commander leapt onto its head and lodged his axe deep into its skull.

A sigh of relief passed Aneril's lips before she knew it, and she leant back in a moment of forgotten tension, before she whipped her head around to check on Vareysa. Her companion was already sitting up, eyes on the Guild members standing over the colossus's body. But her gaze turned to Aneril, who set a hand on the scrapes over her cheek, and healed it with a basic spell.

Torn skin knitted back together, but Aneril's attention was elsewhere – stolen and held captive by a red-eyed gaze. Vareysa opened her mouth to speak, and the movement broke Aneril out of her trance. She dropped her hand, dissipating the magic, and moved to stand on her feet. Glancing at the Fighters Guild commander approaching them, Aneril took a steadying breath, then offered her hand to Vareysa, helping her companion up.

She glimpsed the faint smile on Vareysa's lips, before turning to accept the commander's thanks.

* * *

They took a breather to let Vareysa rest, after being thrown to the floor like a log. Since the damage they took was pretty minor – superficial scratches over skin and armour – they were back on their feet in no time, and set off to their original destination: the Falinesti Spring Site. Aneril was quite curious about it, remembering their last eventful mission in the Winter site. But any hope of a peaceful trip here was gone when they neared the borders of the town, and found it oddly empty – of Bosmer, that was. In their place were armoured Orcs roaming or patrolling the grounds, and none of them looked friendly.

A moment's discussion, and they decided to explore the situation. These Orcs hardly seemed the type who'd belong to the Falinesti Faithful, and their guess was proven right when they found a lone Bosmer hiding behind a clutch of rocks on the town's edge. He started at their approach, but was relieved to see elves instead of Wood Orcs – the ones occupying the town. He begged them to rescue the other Faithful, who'd been dragged away for torture, or worse.

This time, Vareysa's daggers slid out of their sheaths before Aneril could even agree. She rolled her eyes when Aneril raised a brow. "Oh, please. Even a blind foal could tell what's coming next."

Aneril's lips parted in an amused huff as she drew her sword, promising to help the Bosmer.

It was quite straightforward, barring a few battles with the Wood Orcs – who were much nimbler than any other Orcs Aneril had fought, but caution and strategy saw them through. They freed a Faithful tied up at the stables, unharmed, but found another lying on the ground, dead with raw torture marks all over his body. They found the last Faithful tied at a crude shrine, her eyes blazing with wrath even as Vareysa cut the ropes from her wrists.

Fanrel desired vengeance, to take an Orc life for each of the fallen Faithful, and she lost her temper when Aneril refused to help, insisting that she joined the survivors.

"Then keep your uppity little nose out of this, high elf," Fanrel spat. " _I_  will–"

Before they could learn what she'd do, Fanrel dropped to the floor – the victim of a swift chop to her nape. Vareysa shook the pain from her hand, then caught the incredulous look fixed on her.

"What? Were you gonna let her walk right into certain death?"

"I guess not," Aneril sighed, bending down to Fanrel's inert body, and hauling the small mer onto her shoulder.

They brought her back to the survivors with ease, and declined any sort of compensation – much to Vareysa's chagrin. Aneril pretended not to notice her half-serious pout, then forgot about it all together when they chanced upon another Bosmer outside a cave. It was the Falinesti Cave, Thonoras told them, where his wife had escaped after the Wood Orc's attack…when she'd broken the Green Pact to save him. The mer looked utterly crestfallen, and pity moved Aneril to offer aid.

He seemed gladdened, but hesitant when he asked them to track her down. Thonoras warned that Pariel was 'changed', and though he wasn't sure of her exact form, he knew it was deadly. Aneril nodded, glancing at Vareysa, and they ventured into the cave together.

They kept alert, though the passages were empty save for clues leading the way. Vareysa spotted plants trampled by something heavy, four-legged prints left in the soil by large paws, and a Wood Orc warrior whose neck was snapped clean. Claw marks littered his body, and they followed the blood trail to a huge and hostile black bear hiding in an alcove. Aneril stepped forward to take its lunge with her conjured shield, and they subdued this creature easily, though Vareysa was stopped short with her daggers raised above the bear's head.

"No, wait! Stop!"

They spun around in surprise, and found Thonoras running towards them, falling beside the wounded bear. He wove mild healing spells over its body, and it curled up under his ministration.

"I'm sorry, but please. Leave me," Thonoras said. "I left my pack at the mouth of the cave. Inside it is all my gold, and my favourite axe. It's all yours."

"What are you going to do?" Aneril asked, watching as he bent over, touching his head briefly to the bear's.

"Pariel… She sacrificed herself to save me. I cannot leave her, not like this." Thonoras touched the bear gently. "This is the only way we can be together. I will pray to Hircine and hunt beside my wife for the rest of our days. Please, leave us. This is between Hircine and myself."

"But–," Aneril started to protest, but paused when Vareysa held onto her arm. She turned to her companion, who shook her head quietly. Aneril held fast when Vareysa tried to pull her back to the cave mouth, but the heavy silence forced her feet to move, casting one last glance back at Thonoras and Pariel.

They'd walked out of the cave and left Thonoras's bag untouched, when Vareysa said, "If you could choose to be with your loved one for the rest of your life, would you?"

Aneril pondered the question as Vareysa let go of her arm. Her gaze grew far away, then refocused on her companion. An old memory of a smile amid blood and tears rose to the surface, and Aneril swallowed through a tight throat, averting her eyes.

"Yeah," she whispered.

* * *

Their next destination: a settlement farther to the north, called Dread Vullain. Not an auspicious name by any means, but it was a logical stop where they might find Indaenir, or just news of him. From the Falinesti site, it took two days of hiking before they reached the village – or rather, the Vinedusk camp outside of the village, which emanated a dreadful aura. Aneril squinted into the distance as the Vinedusk captain reported an undead corruption – evidenced by the shadows and skeletons roaming around Dread Vullain.

True to his word, Indaenir strode up to them right then, and asked their help in ridding the Shade's influence over the raised spirits. He mentioned glimmers of visions within the village that might help, and though Aneril's better instinct said  _not_  to trust visions in the middle of an undead mess, she chose to trust the mer who possessed more lore and understanding of his home. Accompanying Indaenir, they sought the visions of ghosts – Bosmer of the past, who'd met their end upon the very ground they stood on.

The visions told a grim tale. Bosmer of the Blackroot Clan had conquered Dread Vullain in the past, but its villagers refused to accept defeat…without exacting a dear cost from their foes. Knowing the winning clan would feast upon their dead bodies, they ingested a poison right before their death, and thus dragged their conquerors into an ignoble end; a kick in the teeth, as it were, after Blackroot had celebrated their victory.

The spirits of the Blackroot Clan had lain dormant in Dread Vullain for a long time – until recently, when an unknown entity had stolen the Blackroot general's bow, invoked the Right of Theft, and commanded the clan to rise and march against the Dominion. Aneril had a clear idea of the thief's identity, as did her companions, and they went off in search of the bow that enslaved the Blackroot Clan to a dark being.

Indaenir took the lead, retracing the steps of the ancient Bosmer, which led them into a nereid cave where they found the remains of General Malgoth. The moment Indaenir touched the bones, light was sapped from the world, plunging them into the Shadow Wood once more. A shadow's voice taunted them through the darkness, declaring they would find death before the bow. But they persisted through the realm – freeing trapped Bosmer spirits along the way – until they found a shadow-servant of Naemon waiting in a clearing.

They defeated it easily, having learnt from their previous experiences with the shadows, and it dissipated into nothingness, the bow on its back falling to the ground. Aneril bent down to pick it up, just as the darkness around them lifted, allowing sun to shine upon them once more. General Malgoth's spirit stood before her, waiting for a command from the one who had successfully taken his bow.

Heeding Indaenir's advice, Aneril released Malgoth and his soldiers from servitude, allowing them to go…wherever it was that Bosmer went after death. Indaenir smiled and nodded, offering a word of thanks. And as always, he bade them move on first, while he took care of this damaged part of the forest.

"The Green will bring us together again," Indaenir repeated, words that Aneril was starting to believe in.

* * *

They spent the night at the Vinedusk camp in Dread Vullain, where Shur'azan whined in complaint until they pulled their bedrolls close enough together, so he could nestle comfortably between them and fall asleep. They shared huffs about the cub – who  _might_  be growing a little spoiled – before drifting off to sleep as well, each with an arm draped over Shur'azan.

The next morning, they left the camp behind to wander off on their own. They were quite uncertain at this point, as they'd explored every known site marked on the map, but their aimless wandering was brought to a stop when they met a squad of Dominion soldiers marching up the main road. The soldiers had received orders to abandon patrol and report for duty at Hectahame, an Ayleid ruin located far to the north. Their orders sounded urgent, said the squad's lieutenant, and more hands would be useful in case of an emergency.

Aneril agreed, and they joined the soldiers in their march towards the north. She did take care to travel at a distance from the squad though, noticing the distrustful glances shot in Vareysa's direction, and she was eager to avoid trouble before actually finding it.

The journey took nearly four days, and when they reached the ruin, the soldiers broke away to join the larger contingent standing guard by the wide stone bridge. Aneril, on the other hand, moved uncertainly towards Queen Ayrenn, who was pacing angrily with a hand gripping her sword's hilt. When the Queen's eyes whipped to her in a glare, Aneril stopped dead in her tracks, but moved forward at the wave of Ayrenn's hand.

"Auri-el grant me strength," Ayrenn growled as she neared. "I hope you're the one Indaenir spoke of. The army here is greater than we anticipated."

"My blade is yours, Your Majesty." Aneril bowed her head. "Indaenir is here as well?"

"Yes, he is waiting for you by the gates. He has a plan to get you _… Ugh!_ " Ayrenn bit a frustrated cry through gritted teeth. "Damn these gates.  _Damn_  the corruption.  _I_  should be in there, not Indaenir." She took a breath as if to speak further, but Ayrenn merely gave a sharp sigh, pressing her fingers briefly to her face before looking up at Aneril. "He said you'll be able to pass through. Help him. Stop Naemon."

"So, Naemon is in there?"

Ayrenn nodded, face darkening. "The Veiled Heritants subjected my brother's body to an unnatural resurrection – as a lich. He has the Staff of Magnus, and is using it to suppress Hectahame's necromantic wards and raise an undead army."

"But," Aneril said slowly, glancing at the gates to the ruin. "Why Hectahame?"

"Indaenir says Hectahame guards the Heart of Valenwood. He believes Naemon is corrupting it, and this corruption turns any soldiers we send forth…feral." Ayrenn started shaking her head, anger creasing her brows. "Indaenir knows more. He waits for you at the gate."

Aneril saluted, and walked up to where Indaenir was examining the stone gates – or perhaps what was beyond it – with an intense look in his eye. He turned around at her approach, and flashed a brief smile.

"I'm glad you're here, my friend. As dark as my fears may have been, they pale in comparison to reality. If the Shade of Naemon corrupts the Heart of Valenwood, then the Shadow Wood will consume our realm. And it won't be easy to stop him… Every soldier who's entered Hectahame has turned feral. Even you and I would not be immune."

"Then how do we get in?"

Indaenir tapped his feet nervously, but raised his chin with conviction. "It's risky, but to defeat the darkness, we may have to embrace it first. I can use my connection to the Green to thrust us into Shadow Wood, which grants us a path through the corruption."

Aneril considered the plan. The  _only_  plan. And she nodded. "Let's do it. But."

She held an arm before Vareysa, who'd stepped forward with both hands on her daggers. Vareysa looked to her quizzically, then frowned when Aneril said, "You're not coming."

"What?" Vareysa moved towards her. "But we have a way through. Why are you–?"

"There's no guarantee this will work. If it doesn't, only  _I_  will have to be affected. Not you." Aneril raised a hand when Vareysa started to protest. "Stay here, and watch Shuri. If things go awry…do whatever you have to."

"I'll drag your body out to kick your damn ass," Vareysa hissed, though it only made Aneril laugh quietly, covering the slight ache in her chest.

Aneril took a breath, throat clogging as she looked at Vareysa, unable to think of any parting words. So she sighed and turned to Indaenir – when a hand on her arm stopped her. Aneril glanced back, and watched Vareysa tie a sheathed dagger to her belt.

"What–?"

"Just in case," Vareysa said, pointing at Aneril's blade. "That's seen a lot of use in the last week alone. I don't trust it."

"So has yours," Aneril commented, but pursed her lips when Vareysa merely fixed her with a serious gaze. "But fine. Thanks."

"Be careful, alright?" Vareysa added when Aneril gestured for Indaenir to start casting his spell.

Glancing back at Vareysa, a certain breathlessness stole her words, and the reassurance died in her throat. Aneril stared at her in silence, before pulling her lips into a tight smile.

* * *

Aneril felt less trepidation upon her entry into the Shadow Wood this time. It was expected, and perhaps smoother due to Indaenir's magical deftness. She looked back at where Vareysa stood with the cub, appearing as translucent figures in this realm, and they couldn't seem to see Aneril when she waved at them. Her heart grew heavy for some reason, but she steeled herself and followed Indaenir through the gates.

Their path was fraught with danger – specifically, the risen spirits of Naemon's army. But they skirted along the bridge's edge without trouble, and entered Hectahame proper. Awe overtook Aneril for a moment, as she gazed upon what seemed to be a lush forest within the larger Valenwood. Indaenir allowed her a moment to take in the sight, before leading her towards the central stone structure. It was the entrance to the Valenheart, but the heavy doors were locked. Three empty pedestals stood before the doors, and Indaenir guessed they had to be activated with keystones.

Thus, Aneril went in search of the keystones, while Indaenir stayed at the door to decipher a way of unsealing it. She trekked to the corners of Hectahame, slowed down by the occasional undead, and Naemon's trick of extracting her from the Shadow Wood each time she laid hands on a blue-crystal keystone. But Indaenir could pull her back into the Wood with little effort, and soon Aneril had gathered all the keystones, placing them into the pedestals. It took little time for Indaenir to weave his magic, and soon the stones glowed, the door sliding apart to grant them access.

They walked down a long flight of stairs, and finally arrived at the chamber of the Valenheart – only to find its mighty trunk and numerous boughs withered and bare, while dark magic slithered over flaking bark. Sorrow and anger crossed Indaenir's face in equal measure, and he met Aneril's eyes with a burning gaze –  _time to end this_.

Aneril lunged at Naemon while Indaenir hung back, throwing spell after spell at the lich, giving it no time to recover under a barrage of magic and blade strokes. But recover it still did, firing a torrent of ice-cold flame at Indaenir, while it swiped at Aneril with the Staff of Magnus. She caught the staff with her shield, but the impact propelled her backwards – right through the line of fire still burning on the earthy ground. It caught onto her legs, and Aneril cried out in agony as she crashed to her knees, magic searing through her flesh and into the bone.

Healing magic flooded her veins with relief then – a spell from Indaenir – and she took a moment to recover from the sensory whiplash, before charging into the fray again. She swung her shield in front of Indaenir – taking the brunt of another spell blast – then flew at Naemon again.

The battle dragged on, yet the lich only seemed to grow more forceful,  _angry_. After Aneril delivered the umpteenth cut on his half-solid body, Naemon let out a deep, moaning howl and raised the Staff – shining bright turquoise – and swung it to meet Aneril's blade. Her battered steel sword shattered under the impact, and the next blow cleaved through her conjured shield, breaking her forearm. The cry hadn't left Aneril's throat when she was blasted away by magic, air knocked from her lungs when she landed on her back.

Before she could scramble to her feet, the ground where she lay was consumed by shadow, and an unearthly chill seeped into her back. Incorporeal hands of bone thrust up from ground, and clamped her down by the limbs. Aneril struggled against their hold, then loosed an involuntary scream when  _something_  pierced through her chest and abdomen, sinking its claws deep into her body, her  _organs_. Another tortured cry tore through her throat, as the claws ripped her apart from within, Aneril alternating between brief blackouts and prayers for  _death_ , when–

Naemon howled again, and she could barely sense the build-up of intense magicka near her, as Indaenir overpowered the lich. The deathly magic that held Aneril in place disappeared, leaving her dazed – but wrath was quick to fill where her mind was currently empty. Reaching for the dagger in her belt, Aneril pushed herself up and rushed at the lich, which was still occupied by Indaenir. She leapt into the air as Vareysa had done so many times before, and Aneril sank the dagger into the base of the Naemon's neck. His head started to turn, but she pulled the sharp blade  _through_ , severing the bony neck of the lich.

Her body gave way then, and she crumpled to the floor while Indaenir stood over Naemon's form – still struggling in the throes of its second death.

" _Begone!_ " Indaenir roared over the din, hands alit with bright green. A final explosion of magicka rocked the chamber around them. The rumbling took a few seconds to stop, leaving a sudden silence in its wake, broken only by sobbed whimpers.

Aneril had curled up on the ground, shaking uncontrollably from the was-and-was-not pain gripping her body ever tighter. Hands held her by the shoulder, quickly warming with an intense healing spell that… _embraced_  her, washing over her in a soothing wave that stilled her trembles and stayed her mind. Panting, Aneril regained her senses, uncurling as she looked up at Indaenir, who gave her a tired smile.

"You're fine, my friend," he said, clutching onto her hand. "The damage…was not physical."

She nodded, and allowed Indaenir to help her up. Picking the dagger from the floor as she rose to her feet, Aneril uttered, "My apologies. I wasn't…of much use."

"Nonsense. I couldn't have done it without you." Indaenir gave her a warm smile, which fell away when he looked at the withered Valenheart. "The Heart is overflowing with corruption," he told her. "Spreading darkness all over Valenwood. I will try to heal it, by drawing the corruption out of it…and into myself."

"But–," Aneril breathed weakly. "Won't that…harm you?"

"Quite fatally, I believe. But there is no choice. Please," he added when Aneril started to speak. "Allow me to do this."

Her offer rejected before it was even spoken, Aneril could only stare at him wordlessly, then nod. She trudged aside to watch Indaenir weave his very last spell, drawing the corruption into himself. He wore a small smile as dark magic overtook his body, and when he fell, the Valenheart came to life with such vital energy that Aneril could feel its power – though not fully.

She felt numb as she stared at Indaenir's body, and her sinking heart only plummeted further when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, followed by Cariel and Mane Akkhuz-ri's exclamations as they knelt to examine Indaenir.

"What happened?" Akkhuz-ri asked, and Aneril forced her throat to work.

"Indaenir…sacrificed himself to remove the corruption. From the Valenheart…" Aneril rasped.

She watched as Akkhuz-ri lamented Indaenir's death, then came to an abrupt stop. They turned their gazes to Indaenir's body, backing away as it was lifted into the air, surrounded by a swirl of leaves and a bright verdant glow. The Valenheart pulsed once with the same light, and they were taken aback when Indaenir's eyes opened once more, roving about in confusion before resting on Aneril.

Cariel rushed forward to steady him when he landed on his feet, and Indaenir's befuddled expression only grew when Cariel knelt before him, proclaiming him to be the Silvenar – one chosen by Yffre to be the voice of the Bosmer. Aneril was as perplexed as Indaenir looked, but she was heartened when he only wore a giddy smile, and asked Cariel to give him some time to accept this new title.

Aneril hung back as Akkhuz-ri and Cariel helped Indaenir towards the stairs, and she was about to follow when someone else entered the chamber. Her eyes widened at the sight of Vareysa running towards her, and could only watch as her companion flew into her, arms winding around her shoulders in a tight hug. Aneril froze for a moment, before she wrapped her own arms around Vareysa, desperate for warmth against her body, chasing away the tendrils of darkness lingering over her skin.

She shivered when Vareysa pulled back, but her heart soared when a hand touched her cheek.

Soft.  _Alive._

"Gods, I was  _scared_  for you, Aneril," Vareysa said, feeling about her face and neck. "Thought I heard you screaming, and I was about ready to run in–"

Vareysa stopped speaking, and Aneril remained unaware – until she could feel lips pressing back to hers. She returned the kiss instinctively, before sense cleared her mind, and she pulled back. Aneril stared dumbly back at Vareysa – who looked as surprised as she felt – and the realisation started sinking in when Vareysa's lips curved in an impish smile. Aneril's gaze flickered down to her lips, unbidden, before the revelation hit her in the face.

 _Aneril was the one who initiated_.

She dropped her hands from Vareysa's waist, then took a few steps backwards despite her companion trying to clasp onto her arms. Heat spread across her cheeks when Aneril glimpsed the growing smile on Vareysa's face – mixed with concern – and she fled the chamber quickly with Vareysa on her heels.

* * *

Heart pumping fast, Aneril could scarcely concentrate even when she'd emerged into sunlight no longer hidden by malicious shadows. She moved in a haze to where Indaenir was speaking with Ayrenn, and she felt a tinge of surprise when the Queen knelt before the Silvenar without hesitation, bowing her head low in respect. The haze retreated, and Aneril was overtaken by a sense of admiration as the young Queen rose to her feet, with a smile on her face – nary a trace of shame that would've stricken any lesser Altmer in her place.

Aneril straightened when Ayrenn turned to her, and she gave a thin smile at the Queen's thanks. Ayrenn bade her rest, and tasked her to travel ahead to Malabal Tor, where they would prepare for the union between the new Silvenar and Green Lady. Velyn Harbour was their destination, where they would meet the Green Lady and wait for the Silvenar to be escorted to her side.

Aneril saluted, and decided to act upon the Queen's first order. She turned around out of habit, lips parting to tell Vareysa her plan, but the sight of her companion made Aneril shut her mouth in reflex, embarrassment rising back to the surface. Averting her eyes, Aneril moved to the spare barracks tents and set her bag down, as Vareysa followed her lead without a word.

The night passed rather peacefully, and Aneril managed to grab a good, restful sleep – after spending much time fretting quietly in her bedroll. When she rose in the morning, however, the previous night's trouble was forgotten. Not necessarily a good sign, as she felt oddly flat in her chest, but she was able to fall back into routine with Vareysa. They shared a hot breakfast over a campfire, then packed their bags and took leave of the Dominion camp, following the main road leading up to Malabal Tor in the north.

Aneril nodded wordlessly when Vareysa mentioned visiting the waterfalls she'd heard of, but it seemed she'd have to wait a bit – the skies opened up halfway through their trek, and the pouring rain forced them to scramble under the trees, hoping to use the thick canopy as scant shelter, until they finally stumbled across a small cave. They ran inside in relief, though Aneril could only groan to herself as she looked down at her soaked armour. Metal rusted quickly in Valenwood's humid climate, and she refused to take a chance with the new equipment she'd taken from the Dominion's stores.

So she unbuckled her armour and plopped herself on the ground, taking a piece of cloth to wipe her armour while Vareysa shed her leathers as well, and Shur'azan shook the water from his body. Aneril's task took nearly an hour to complete, though it wasn't only due to her diligence with the equipment. The cave was  _small_ , and with the growing tiger taking up almost half the space, the two mer were crammed in their corner, sitting nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. She was acutely aware of Vareysa's proximity, but tried to pass off the feeling of being watched as her own paranoia.

And when she set the last piece of clean armour on the ground, that 'paranoia' only grew. Aneril kept her eyes to the front, even as she leant back against the rocky wall to rest. She stared at the thick sheets of rain still falling outside the cave mouth, shivering from the occasional gust of wind that made Shur'azan tail twitch, and was slowly turning stiffer under the eyes watching her, when Vareysa finally broke the silence.

"So, about…"

"No."

Vareysa chuckled. "About my dagger…"

Heat crept up the sides of her neck, when Aneril remembered the dagger still fastened to her belt. She reached quickly for the blade, and tossed it over to Vareysa without looking. The Dunmer's gaze never left Aneril as she set the dagger on her backpack.

"Now, about Hectahame…" Vareysa's smile only grew wider when Aneril kept quiet. "The thing that we did…"

"An accident," Aneril muttered.

"Right. It was the wind, wasn't it? Pushed you  _right_  in my direction, close enough to get what you want…"

"I didn't–!" Aneril protested, finally turning to her. "It  _wasn't_ –"

The short-lived argument died on her tongue when Vareysa's fingers held her by the chin, pulling her a hair closer. "I would've believed you didn't feel that way about me–"

" _I don't_ ," Aneril said hotly – or, she tried. But it only came out as a whisper.

"I would've believed that, Aneril," Vareysa murmured, voice low and dangerously smooth. "If I hadn't seen the way you've been looking at me."

Aneril tried to argue, and her breath caught when Vareysa moved closer. But they never made contact – Vareysa only shifted up to her, and Aneril leaned back in a futile attempt to put some space between herself and the woman who'd slunk into her lap. The cave wall behind her was the only thing steadying her in that moment, and Aneril felt weaker when Vareysa laid a hand on the base of her neck, raising a finger to push her chin up. Their gazes met, and Aneril couldn't tear herself away from that hypnotic shade of crimson.

 _Magic. It must be_ …

"Tell me to stop, Aneril," Vareysa whispered, wisps of breath caressing her skin. "And I will."

Aneril's lips twitched, but her voice was lost as she kept staring up at Vareysa, whose hand had slid lower to rest on her chest – making Aneril aware of each breath she took. Vareysa's lips curved in a smile – sly yet… _gentle_ , and Aneril's eyes fluttered shut when their lips met again. Her hand reached up to clutch at Vareysa's hip, though the half-hearted attempt to push Vareysa away, only turned into a grip on her partner's shirt.

Each kiss – deliberate and slow – left a lingering warmth on her cool skin, and rekindled a sensation, a  _desire_  she'd left buried under the weight of her death and 'rebirth'. Aneril reciprocated next kiss, feeling the brief surprise in Vareysa's pause, and she was left yearning from their separation until Vareysa brought their lips together again, fingers threading through damp blonde hair. Aneril yielded to the tongue dipping quickly past her lips, teasing her for the shortest moment before Vareysa pulled back, and bit her lip playfully.

Their gazes were locked, breaths heavier as Vareysa's hand slipped down Aneril's chest for a jaunt over firm abs, red gaze holding blue captive. Aneril was slowly unraveling under Vareysa's stare, the caress on her jaw, but when fingers tugged on her shirt's drawstrings, she was startled into action. Aneril grabbed Vareysa's hand, and her partner stopped immediately, looking back at her.

And in the thick silence, Aneril wondered  _why_  – not at Vareysa, but at herself. She'd been fine with stolen moments of intimacy, especially when she was in Cyrodiil. Nothing wrong with seeking comfort when you were stranded so far from home, in a bitter world falling apart around you. And this time…it wasn't much different, was it?

The memory of her agony in Hectahame sent a chill down her spine, and Aneril shivered from an unnatural cold, fingers curling tighter around Vareysa's. Watching her quietly, Vareysa raised their hands to nudge under Aneril's chin, lifting her gaze. Vareysa gave her a gentle smile, then pressed a soft kiss to her lips, sharing warmth sorely needed on a cold day of rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally..........


	17. Chapter 17

The heavy rain persisted well into the evening, and constant splatters of water threatened to turn their little cave into a damp, uncomfortable hideout, until Aneril cast a barrier over the entrance. Vareysa surrendered a soul gem she'd 'liberated' from a 'stuffy mage's pocket' – in her own words – and Aneril spent countless tries channeling the spell into the gem before it took, so the barrier would hold up by itself until they dissipated the spell from the gem.

Aneril, though appreciative of the occasional peace, grew restless after the long hours spent staring out into the rain, feeling antsy at her partner's presence, while Vareysa fell asleep with her head on Aneril's shoulder. Shur'azan followed suit, resting his head in Aneril's lap, and soon the three of them had all shut their eyes, dozing in a nap while the rain poured relentlessly outside. Aneril's head dipped and jerked up many times – once even resting against Vareysa until she woke and pulled away – and soon enough, she raised her bleary eyes to the forest outside. It was nearly as dark as night, but she doubted the day had slipped away so quickly, owing it to the rain clouds still lingering in the sky.

She waited patiently for her companions to rouse – first was Shur'azan who awoke with a snort and shake of his head, then Vareysa who burrowed her face into Aneril's shoulder, before pushing herself up with a sluggish sigh. They sat quietly in post-sleep haze, before Vareysa groaned aloud about being hungry, and her refusal to sate herself with dry rations that night. So she conjured a bow and a quiver arrows, winked when Aneril looked surprised at her proficiency with the spell, then took the cub to go hunting with her.

Aneril's cheeks grew a  _tad_  warmer as Vareysa left the cave, and she struggled with the questions rising within her before she pushed them down, reaching for her bag instead. She took out her water canteen and a half-packet of hardtack, thinking to heat up some bread to go with the meat. Then she took the map and laid it on top of her backpack, reviewing their current position and the time needed for a trek up to Velyn Harbour in Malabal Tor. She wasn't sure how long it would take exactly –  _'many days'_  was her best guess, and she suspected it would take them up to a week, perhaps longer.

Well, it wasn't much of a problem, truth be told. If their journey was as peaceful as it had been so far, then Aneril wouldn't mind a few more days on the road.

She marked out the waterfall that Vareysa wanted to visit, folded the map and placed it back into her bag. Then she glanced out at the wet earth, and wondered how they could ever start a fire in such conditions. Vareysa's return only compounded her doubt when Shur'azan dropped a large bunch of damp branches on the ground, looking disappointed at his own find. Aneril gave him a scratch on the head, then turned to the pile of wood, casting one flame spell after another in hopes of lighting it.

"Why don't you use dragonfire?" Vareysa suggested, after the eighth attempt failed.

Aneril whipped her eyes up incredulously. "It's a  _combat_  spell. Not some…common tool for lighting fires–"

"Come on, it's way hotter than regular fire. It might work,  _and_  you don't have to waste too much magicka if it does.  _Or_ ," Vareysa cut in before Aneril could protest, and she held up the bunch of rabbits she'd skinned and deboned. "You could imagine they're live targets and breathe on them long enough."

"Oh, I  _hate_ you," Aneril growled, pushing the rabbits away.

She adjusted the wood pile – which felt drier than before – and muttered something about  _'an indignity'_  before breathing dragonfire onto the wood. The fire didn't catch, but smoke started rising from the pile. At Vareysa's urging, Aneril breathed on the wood twice more, before it burst into flames hot enough to cook meat thoroughly. Aneril leant back with a pout as Vareysa speared a rabbit each on the two skewers they had, and stuck them over the fire.

It seemed Vareysa's claim was quite accurate – the rabbits did cook much faster than they would've over a regular fire, and Aneril had to squint down at her own cooked rabbit to avoid looking at Vareysa's smug smirk. They ate in silence with the cub, who had the courtesy to wait for them before starting on his own antelope carcass with gusto. Aneril watched him chomp away on the animal, wondering at how much he seemed to have grown. He still wasn't the largest cub Aneril had seen, compared to the others padding around Greenshade, but he was…coming into his own. That was something to be proud of, at least. To have raised a tiger safely amid all the danger she kept pulling them into.

She felt a pang at the thought, and glanced discretely at Vareysa, who had taken the hardtack and was slicing them into thinner pieces, so they could be toasted easily over the fire. Vareysa seemed quite unbothered by their situation. Then again, she never was bothered by anything – other than Aneril's…noble tendencies. Still, she always just accepted her decisions with that crooked, exasperated smirk…

Vareysa looked up then, and Aneril jerked her gaze away. She leaned back against the cave wall, trying to look casual, but heat started to gather about her neck as Vareysa's eyes rested on her. Aneril feigned ignorance for what felt like forever, before she breathed in relief when Vareysa turned her attention back to the hardtack in the fire.

 _Stop staring_ , she chided herself.

* * *

They slept in the cave that night, with Shur'azan curled up by the barrier, while his two companions lay back-to-back. Aneril fell asleep after getting accustomed to Rey's warmth behind her, but woke feeling self-conscious again, as she lay on her back with Vareysa half-nestled into her side for warmth in the cold night. She dozed for a few moments, before shaking off the sleepiness and carefully peeling herself away from Vareysa. Aneril patted the cub's head when he snorted in his sleep, then pulled the thin covers up to Vareysa's chest. She put on her boots and stood, straightening her wrinkled shirt, and ventured out of the cave in search of some food for breakfast.

When she returned an hour later, her companions were already awake and glanced at the armful of acai berries, grapes, and mangoes she'd found in the forest. Vareysa caught the mango she tossed over, while Shur'azan took a sniff at the haul and growled, turning his head away in disinterest. Neither Aneril or Vareysa touched the unappetising hardtack, sating their hungers solely with fruit and the remaining water in their canteens. Then they sat a while to let their stomachs settle, before packing up and leaving their cramped little cave.

A light drizzle still fell over Greenshade, which made them carry their armours in bundles instead of wearing them. Despite the extra weight on her back, Aneril relished the chance to stretch her long legs that had mostly stayed bent in the cave. If anything, the armour was a good counterweight to her light steps, and Aneril couldn't help but feel a tinge of tranquil happiness as they walked along the rough stone path, with a mellow sun hanging in the sky above.

At their leisurely pace, it took half a day's trek to reach the waterfalls that Vareysa wished to visit. She gazed up at the gushing water, and made Aneril cock her head curiously when she mentioned how nice it was to see water instead of lava flowing down the rocks. Before Aneril could ask, they were both distracted by a sudden, loud splash to the side – Shur'azan had taken a running start towards the shore and thrown himself into the sea, paddling about the waters eagerly.

Vareysa laughed at the sight, then stripped down to her underwear, dropping her clothes and bag carelessly onto a flat rock. She jumped into the water, and the tiger snorted playfully when he was splashed by the resulting shower of droplets. Vareysa turned to Aneril and beckoned her over with a finger, then made a motion to start splashing water at the Altmer when she didn't seem inclined to join in. Aneril rolled her eyes at the tactic Vareysa had used the last time, and though she didn't quite mind her clothes getting wet, Aneril shed them as well and waded into the water.

Leaving her companions behind to play with each other, she swam farther out into the sea, losing herself in the vast, endless stretch of blue. She closed her eyes, floating upon the gentle waves as her mind wandered back to precious memories of similar, stolen moments of peace. A twinge in her chest, and Aneril gazed at the cloudy sky above, her previous happiness trickling away to leave an empty space in its wake. But she grabbed at the feeling before it could slip away, and focused on the present, listening to the splashes along the shore.

Aneril turned her head, and found her companions playing about in the pool, closer to the waterfall. She took a breath, swimming inland and past the shore, to where Vareysa and Shur'azan swam around, occasionally splashing water at each other. Aneril skirted around them, but Shuri caught onto her soon enough, and his tail flicked in her direction to shower her in water. She chuckled and flung water at him, then hid her head behind an arm when he flailed his paws, creating a miniature rainstorm that drenched both Aneril and Vareysa. He chuffed playfully when they shrieked, then dove into the water to escape their retaliation, emerging only when he was far out of their reach, swimming into the open sea.

"He's getting smart– _agh!_ " Aneril jerked back when Vareysa splashed more water onto her. "Wait, stop–!"

She ended up laughing as Vareysa darted about the pool with surprising agility, dashing water onto Aneril from so many directions so quickly, that she gave up tracking her companion. Aneril flailed her arms around blindly, trying to put up a valiant counterattack, but she was taken off guard when two arms locked around her neck.

Aneril opened her eyes to look up at Vareysa, feeling her companion's weight on her shoulders, and her breaths grew short at the devilish smirk on Vareysa's lips. She kicked her legs to keep them both afloat, while Vareysa pushed her towards the edge of the pond, where her feet found purchase on rocks beneath the water. Aneril leaned back, heart pounding as Vareysa dipped down, their lips meeting in a wet, firm kiss.

Her arm circled around Vareysa's waist instinctively, supporting her partner's weight on her hips as she tilted up into the kiss, and Vareysa met her eagerly. She was breathless when they parted, mind blank as she stared up at Vareysa, who remained close enough that the tips of their noses touched.

"Do you know how long I've waited to do this again?" Vareysa asked, voice low and husky.

"A day?" Aneril replied, breathless, and her lips curved as Vareysa chuckled with a smile.

"And that's a day too long," Vareysa murmured, claiming Aneril's lips and senses once more.

Aneril grew weaker with each kiss, beats growing quicker in her chest as Vareysa slips into her mouth, exploring with such deftness that Aneril was left chasing after her lips when she pulled away. Vareysa met her gladly, holding Aneril captive as her fingers grazed over golden skin. Her smile was crooked, lewd, when they parted again, and she traced Aneril's bottom lip with a thumb, leaning in to give her a peck and bite.

"You are so…infuriatingly chivalrous," Vareysa said.

Aneril was left confused, until Vareysa took the hand gripping onto her hip – where it had been the whole time. Guiding Aneril by the wrist, Vareysa brought the hand slowly to her toned stomach, then farther upward.

"Don't you want to have a little feel," Vareysa purred, sliding Aneril's hand up her chest. "To go with the taste?"

Aneril's lips parted, but she couldn't piece two coherent words together as her gaze dropped to her hand, which trailed ever so slowly up Vareysa's neck, to rest on her jaw. She was distracted by Vareysa's smirk then, and watched as her partner trailed kisses from her palm, up to her fingers. Aneril touched her fingertips to Vareysa's lips, receiving another kiss as she caressed her partner's skin, feeling her heart beat quicker when Vareysa pinched a fingertip between her teeth–

A stomach growled, and a fleeting second passed over them in silence, before Vareysa burst out laughing.

"Is that why, Anni?" Vareysa teased as Aneril's cheeks grew warm. "Getting a little hungry, aren't we?"

"Shut up," Aneril retorted weakly, though an abashed smile curved her lips.

"Only if you make me." Vareysa winked, pulling away from Aneril's arms. But she took Aneril by the hand, and swam towards their bags at the opposite end of the pool. "But first, let's fill that stomach of yours, hm?"

* * *

The waterfall was in the northwestern edge of Greenshade, far removed from civilisation, and only a few animals wandered into the area for a drink at the shore. All of them were scared away by a tiger cub prancing towards them, and Shur'azan learnt to stay in place, sitting by his two friends as he watched the other animals with attentive eyes, ears pricked.

He seemed quite engrossed in this new activity, and didn't grow restless or complain when they decided to camp there for the rest of the day. Shur'azan's tail flopped lazily on the grass as he inched ever closer to the shore, while his companions set up camp in a copse of trees by the waterfall, where they'd be well-hidden at night. Aneril lay down on her bedroll as she watched the cub ruin his chance of playing with a deer by startling it, and he seemed disappointed when it ran away. It didn't bother him for long though, before he trotted off along the shore, exploring his surroundings much like Vareysa.

The Dunmer in question had set off a while ago, climbing up the vines beside the waterfall, and disappeared after reaching the top. Aneril, left alone in camp, pulled a manual from the bottom of her bag – an old book gifted by the Redguard warrior who'd taught her the ways of the Dragonknight, a combat style descended from ancient Akaviri martial traditions. She glanced through the spells she was familiar with, then turned to the page she'd marked out years ago, where she'd stopped studying after joining the Queen's army.

To her chagrin, Aneril remembered how difficult it had been to even practice this spell, which involved the stealing of another being's life force to heal herself. Naturally, she couldn't use it on someone else or a target dummy, so she had to settle for frogs and insects instead. She breathed in once, drawing magicka as she did so, but the dragonfly didn't seem to waver in its flight – the spell had failed. An old frustration rose in Aneril, but she kept at it, and the training occupied her until the evening, when Vareysa returned to find her companion wearing an inexplicably angry scowl on her face.

Aneril tossed the manual into the bag when Vareysa asked, shrugging as they prepared a meal of crusty bread, preserved meats, and freshly-caught fish – donations from Shur'azan's pile that he'd caught for himself. He waited for them to cook the fish, before digging into his hard work with hearty chomps and growls.

After a full day of play, the cub seemed tired and content to curl up by the fire, dozing until his companions started climbing into their bedrolls as well. His chosen partner for the night was Vareysa, and he waited until she'd lain comfortably under the covers, before settling on the ground beside her, closing his eyes with a quiet chuff. His ears twitched when Vareysa scratched the baby scruff around his neck, and the two drifted off to sleep while their remaining companion sat by the dying fire, watching them both.

Aneril stared at the back of the cub's head, before her gaze drifted to the elf he slept by. Vareysa's lips parted slightly in sleep, as always. Her mind wandered back to their moment in the pool, wet bodies pressed chest-to-chest, fingers roaming over skin warmed by the sun yet cooled by water, and that burgeoning desire as she stared up at her partner's lips, wanting more…

She started then, aware of the accelerated beat in her chest, and shook off the self-indulgent thoughts clinging to her consciousness…but not fully. Her eyes wandered back to her companion, staring silently once again. Vareysa's face was thin, angular. Her dark red eyes – a distinctive mark of the 'cursed' mer – had a tendency to appear menacing, like danger lying in wait behind a cool calm. Her skin was a bluish, dusky hue, smooth to the touch but for the few scars that marked her flesh. Her hair was fine, with a texture quite delightful to Aneril's fingers, coloured by a dark shade of maroon that would've turned many 'purebred' Altmer away. Vareysa would appear positively outlandish by Summerset standards, but that…wasn't a bad thing.

Aneril stopped herself then, taking a breath and focusing on Vareysa again, realising where her mind was headed.

_What are you doing? You're in no position…no state to be dragging someone along with you. Why is she still here? There's nothing for her here. Can't…be me, can it? It's been so–, probably superficial. Definitely superficial._

Her heart sank a little, and she lowered her gaze.

_You are not…_

Frustration flared into a tiny spark of anger, and Aneril stuffed herself into the bedroll, turning over so her back faced Vareysa. She pulled the covers over her shoulders, cocooning herself tightly amid the cool night air. Aneril shut her eyes, and forced everything out of her mind – she wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise.

* * *

Next morning, they packed and set off after a quick meal over the fire, eager to get moving after a day of rest. They followed the road up to the northwestern edge of Greenshade, where they could cross into the region of Malabal Tor with a few days' trek. But it seemed they would be distracted from their journey again, when an arrow sank into the ground before them, and they whirled around with weapons drawn, to find a Dominion scout waving them over to his empty camp.

They joined him at the edge of the Ayleid ruin – Moonhenge, Aneril remembered its name from the map – and listened as he told them about Daedra who'd captured his squad for a ritual. He needed help, and sought it from Aneril, who'd donned her Dominion armour once more. She agreed, and left Shur'azan in the camp while she and Vareysa snuck up to the ruin, spying various Dremora and Daedric creatures stalking about the broken stone structures. But their numbers weren't great, making it easy for Aneril and Vareysa to move around and free captive soldiers from ritual circles, having to fight only a few Daedra along the way.

When they reached the centre of the ruin, they destroyed four warding crystals around the platform, unsealing the portal which the Dominion squad had been taken through. They entered it, and emerged onto a landscape that Aneril  _knew_  was part of Coldharbour. But she ignored the dread rising within her, and moved on to find the captain of the captured squad, who had devised a sound plan of escape.

While Captain Sinien snuck off to secure the exit on the opposite end of the landscape, Aneril and Vareysa went in search of two remaining soldiers, pointing them in Sinien's direction to regroup. Then they liberated two crystal portal keys from dremora, and slipped to the rendezvous point where Sinien and her soldiers stood waiting. Aneril handed the keys to Sinien, who took them with a hesitation that soon became clear, when she revealed the rest of her plan.

She intended to destroy this Oblivion portal with a scroll she'd crafted herself. The problem was, when the scroll destroyed the sigil stone keeping the portal active, its caster will be trapped in this plane with no other way to escape. Sinien spoke with conviction, holding up the scroll with a determined look in her eye – soon replaced by surprise and incredulity when Aneril held out her hand.

"Give it to me," Aneril said. "I will close the portal."

" _What?_ " Vareysa's interruption took Sinien by surprise, and she pushed the Altmer captain away, glaring up at Aneril. "Have you lost your marbles? You can't–,  _why_  are you even–? Do you even  _know_  how to work that thing–?"

Vareysa's eyes widened when Aneril grabbed onto her nape, and before she could voice her surprise, she suffered a shock spell that knocked her unconscious. Aneril caught her as she fell, then thrust Vareysa's body into Sinien's arms, snatching the scroll from the captain's hand as she did so.

"Trust me," was all Aneril offered in reassurance. "I have a feeling…I can pull through." She opted not to describe how her not-soul seemed to pulse in time with the latent energy in the air around them, but Sinien didn't bother to probe.

"Alright, but there should be a planar tear right before the portal collapses." Sinien glanced down at Vareysa, then slung the Dunmer over her shoulder. "You'd better come back."

"I'll try."

Aneril turned to the glowing sigil stone Sinien had pointed to – on a separate platform connected by a rocky bridge. As the Dominion soldiers walked through the portal, Aneril jogged quickly to the sigil stone, and cast one last glance back to ensure her comrades had escaped safely. She reached a hand out, feeling experimentally about the stone which shone both hot and cold, then unfurled the scroll in her hands. Aneril recited the verbal incantation written within, channeling the magicka that soon turned the scroll warm, and the sigil stone before her grew to a glaring white.

The plane around her exploded in blinding light, and through watery eyes screwed half-shut, Aneril glimpsed a sliver of white and green amid the glare.

* * *

"I will not ask again," Vareysa hissed, raising her dagger high enough that the Dominion soldiers hefted their own blades as well – except Sinien. "Open a fucking portal to where Aneril is, so I can drag her back."

"No," Sinien repeated, calm and unmoving despite the threat who stood a full head shorter than her. "I will not risk exposing Greenshade to the Daedra for just one person. Even if she was a respected hero."

 _'Was'_. The word echoed in her hollow, sluggish mind, and it fed into her anger as Vareysa bared her teeth. She took one step closer to Sinien, inciting a similar reaction from the soldiers, and Sinien finally took the staff from her back.

"I do not wish for this to end in blood," Sinien said, staff still lowered. "It will only dishonour her sacrifice–"

"She did  _not_  sacrifice _–_!"

Vareysa's shout ended suddenly, as their eyes snapped to the sudden flash of light behind her. They watched, taken aback by the figure throwing itself through, just before the flickering light disappeared without a trace. Looking none the worse for wear, Aneril rose to her feet with shaking arms, and looked to them with as much surprise as they felt. She stared wordlessly for a few long seconds, before her eyes flew wide when Vareysa darted forward.

" _Why_  do you keep doing this!" Vareysa demanded, barely in control of her voice as she slammed a fist on Aneril's breastplate. The sting in her hand did nothing to douse her anger, and she hit Aneril's armour again. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you keep doing such  _stupid_  things? Well? Answer me!"

She slapped at Aneril's breastplate, and looked up only to find a dumbstruck expression on her partner's face.

Aneril stared at her, lips moving wordlessly, until she managed to breathe, "I'm…sorry?"

"You'd better be," Vareysa bit back, hitting Aneril's armour once more, just for emphasis. "Gods, I  _hate_  you so much."

And in direct contradiction to her claim, Vareysa flung herself at Aneril, arms clamping around her partner's waist. She felt Aneril's weak, hitched chuckle beside her ear, and closed her eyes as she laid her head on Aneril's shoulder, feeling the soldier's arms wrap around her as well.


	18. Chapter 18

The forests between Greenshade and Malabal Tor were quiet, peaceful. Part of Aneril wanted to plop herself down and stay there forever, avoiding whatever duties lay in wait for her at Velyn Harbour. This reluctance had been festering within her for a while now – since Marbruk, perhaps. After the ascension of the Wilderqueen, which left an indelible mark that had only burrowed ever deeper as time passed. It was...negligible, easy to push out of her mind if she chose, but the certain flatness that arose during moments of solitude was not comforting.

In fact, it was too familiar, and Aneril dreaded…

A sudden inhale, and Aneril shook off the cold threads of fear winding around her heart, looking around to anchor herself. She was trekking through a thicker part of the forests with Shur'azan, following the white tiger cub on his winding, haphazard path. Since they had time on their hands, Aneril let Shur'azan pick his own way this time, instead of having his path dictated for him all the while. And he seemed to be relishing this freedom, tail swaying from side to side as he trotted leisurely along, not bothering to be stealthy with a tall Altmer lumbering beside him.

Aneril felt a pinch of amusement when Shur'azan turned his head around to check on her, and she reached down to give him a scratch behind his ears. "Yes, I'm following. Don't worry," she said, and was given a huff in reply. "Go on ahead. I'll be right behind you."

Shur'azan's ears pricked, and he pranced away with all the vigour of a young child – which he was, Aneril reminded herself, no matter how big he'd grown. Aneril kept her eyes on him – or she tried to, but it was obvious that Shuri had been raring to go. He bounced some distance ahead and climbed onto the huge roots of a tree, glanced back at her, then slunk off through the bushes ahead. Aneril lost sight of him then, but wasn't too concerned. The cub had a good nose on him, and could find his way back to her with no problem.

Alone now, Aneril strolled over the leaf-covered soil, dimly missing the constant chatter of her companion. She had to admit, if Vareysa wasn't around, her journey so far would've been lonely and quiet indeed. Perhaps she wouldn't even have made it this far without Vareysa's help. The odds had always been stacked against them, and Aneril was quite surprised they had emerged victorious from each encounter, this team of two. Surely she wouldn't have survived this long without Vareysa…

_Damn it_. Aneril kicked at the crisp brown leaves with the tip of her boot, a slight pout appearing on her lips. Frustration welled up in her, and with practiced swiftness, Aneril shoved the unpleasant feeling aside. She took another breath, then exhaled through her nose.  _Don't think too much_.

Aneril focused on the trees before her, feet slowing to a stop as a white figure padded through the thick brush. She cocked at her head, gazing curiously at the dark grey object in Shuri's mouth, and she knelt down when he offered it to her. Shur'azan dropped the unbelievably smooth stone onto her palm, and Aneril turned it over between her fingers, deciphering his intent.

"Do you want to keep it, Shuri?"

An affirmative huff, and Aneril couldn't help but smile.

"Found something new to collect? Don't want seashells anymore?"

A sad growl. Shur'azan had come to learn how fragile his seashells were, when one broke in two pieces between his fangs. Aneril had been there to watch surprise cross his features, then apparent sadness as he stared down at the broken shell, prodding his nose at it. He'd been careful while playing with the seashells since, if a little reluctant to play with them at all. But now, it seems he'd found something more durable to play with.

"Okay, I'll keep this for you."

Another huff, and a bump of his head on her arm. Aneril dropped the stone into her pocket, then straightened up, turning back to where they came from. "Do you want to explore more, Shuri? Or go back to the inn?"

Shur'azan hopped in the direction of the inn and moved ahead, leading the way once more. Aneril followed after him, eager to catch some rest under a roof instead of a canopy, though she stopped in her tracks often, to pick a small assortment of flowers on the way back to the roadside inn.

Aneril sniffed at the flowers just before she entered the inn, delighting in the blend of fragrances, before it was masked by the heavier scent of ale and roasting meats. She stopped by the bar to pick up a pot of tea, before making her way up to the room where Vareysa was still lying in her bed. Aneril felt a tinge of concern, setting the pot on the table, as Vareysa rolled around in bed with a sniffle, her eyes still watery.

She'd been out in the forest with Aneril and Shur'azan at first, but accidentally brushed her hand over a small patch of flowers that made her skin itch upon contact. Then Vareysa tried to sniff at her hand to identify the flowers, but it only made her allergy worse, and she ended up sniffling and sneezing uncontrollably. Amid Vareysa's curses at the Black Anther flower, Aneril told her to return to the inn, and she went without complaint, sneezing and muttering Dunmer swears along the way. At least, Aneril thought they were swears.

"Feel better?"

"No," Vareysa said through a stuffy nose. "I'm gonna cut my nose off."

"That would be an overreaction," Aneril stated. "I brought up some tea for you. Might make you feel better."

"Yeah? Are those for me too?"

Aneril blinked, then looked down at the flowers in her hand. Her cheeks grew warm. "I–, well. I thought–, there's...no place to put this," she said distractedly, looking around the room. "Maybe I should go get a vase. Or just a bottle–"

She paused when her eyes finally land on Vareysa, who was holding out a hand with a lopsided smile. Aneril's cheeks grew warmer, and she walked over uncertainly, placing the flowers in Vareysa's hand.

"Do you have...any other allergies," Aneril asked weakly, sitting down when Vareysa tugged on her hand.

"No, just the Black Anther."

"You knew you were allergic? Then why did you even try to smell it?"

"Wanted to make sure. Not my brightest moment, I admit." Vareysa shrugged. She bent down to sniff thickly the flowers. "I can't smell these, but I'm sure they're lovely."

Aneril scoffed. "They are. I picked them." She was about to explain her choice of flowers, how their combined scents would help soothe her sinuses, but the words died on her tongue, when Vareysa leaned forward to peck her on the cheek.

"Thanks."

"I...thought you'd like them," Aneril said quietly, almost mumbling, as her blush returned.

"I do."

The softness in her voice made Aneril look up, meeting that fond gaze. Her eyes flickered briefly down to Vareysa's lips, before she caught herself, and rose to her feet. "I'll–, get the tea."

Aneril turned around, just glimpsing that fond, exasperated scrunch of Vareysa's brows. And as she was filling two mugs with tea, she heard Vareysa exclaim suddenly, "No! Not allowed, cubby!"

She turned back to find Shur'azan with his front paws on Vareysa's bed, his head craned up, mouth open wide in an attempt to eat the flowers. Aneril wanted to laugh, but the urgent need to see those flowers survive made her bark, "Shuri."

Shur'azan growled, tail flicking playfully as he set his paws down on the bed.

"He's just playing," Aneril said, knowing the tiger wouldn't have eaten the flowers. "Here, Shuri."

Aneril reached for her backpack sitting by the table, and took out a small sack. She spread a piece of cloth on the floor, then carefully poured out the seashells from the sack. Shuri lay by the shells immediately, and his ears pricked when Aneril added his newfound stone into the collection. He reached out with a paw and gently patted the shells, gazing at them intently.

She huffed a laugh, scratching him on the head. Come to think, she couldn't imagine traveling without Shur'azan either.

* * *

As they neared the southern gates to Velyn Harbour, it became apparent that trouble was afoot. They had seen a number of people leaving the city in a hurry, with carts and wagons and little time for strangers on the road asking questions. After her question was ignored for the third time, Aneril gave up and decided to get the answers herself in the city – which wasn't difficult.

A large Dominion camp was set up by the gates, housing injured soldiers and civilians alike, protected by barricades and guards stationed up the main road. Aneril managed to find her way to the commanding lieutenant, Ehran, who brought her up to speed – his company had been sent to escort the Green Lady to her wedding in the city of Silvenar, but they arrived to find Velyn Harbour under attack by Redguard sailors and Wood Orcs of the local Drublog clan.

Aneril accepted the task of rescuing trapped civilians, and instructed Shur'azan to stay in the Dominion camp, before she set off with Vareysa, weapons ready. They took less guarded roads through the town, sneaking into homes to search for civilians, and directed them to the safety of the main camp. When their sweep of the town was done, they headed to the barracks to meet Ehran – only to find the lieutenant dead, with his corporal guarding over his body.

Ehran was killed by the Drublog chief, and Linaarie bade them kill the Orc in turn – for revenge, and to break the invaders' hold over Velyn Harbour. Leaving Linaarie behind to coordinate a counterattack, they wound their way through the town again, this time heading for the town hall, which the Drublog chief had claimed for his base. He was alone, an easy target for an experienced Dominion soldier and an assassin. He went down easily under their combined blows, and they slipped away from the town hall before any Wood Orcs returned.

Finding their way to the docks where Linaarie waited, having pushed the invaders towards the sea with the Dominion force she'd gathered, supported by friendly sailors who'd arrived and lent their aid. On Linaarie's orders, Aneril and Vareysa pushed through the chaos on the docks, setting Redguard supplies on fire as they neared the lighthouse, where the Redguard captain was cornered.

Unlike his Drublog counterpart, the Redguard had a few lackeys standing with him. Though Vareysa took one out with a surprise attack, it was still a hard fight that left Aneril winded, arm aching, but they held on until reinforcements arrived and overpowered the Redguard captain easily. When he lay dead among his comrades, Aneril strode out of the lighthouse to report the success to Linaarie, who in turn gave her thanks, and asked them to meet with the Green Lady, who'd been leading the defense in the town's northern district.

Due to the precious cargo stored there, the invaders had launched a heavy assault on the northern warehouses – and failed, judging from the number of bodies littering the floor. Aneril's brows rose at the sight – even Vareysa seemed impressed – and they found a group of Bosmer soldiers standing victorious amid the bloodied field, led by a fierce mer who first introduced herself as Gwaering, then the 'Green Lady'.

Aneril found herself quite charmed by Gwaering, where she'd been intimidated by her predecessor back in Khenarthi's Roost. Gwaering's passion and strength of will was palpable, balanced nicely with her affability and sincerity. And when she requested Aneril's aid in her investigation of the Drublog orcs' motives, Aneril could find little reason to refuse.

* * *

The Green Lady gave one more order: to rest. And Aneril was glad to comply. They'd had half a day's trek under their belts before getting embroiled in Velyn Harbour's defense, and their muscles were aching from prolonged exertion.

While the civilians streamed back into town, they head towards the southern camp, and Aneril's mind was on her water canteen when someone called out to her, as they passed by the docks. She stopped dead in her tracks, recognising that voice from ages ago, yet still so familiar to her ears. Too familiar.

Aneril froze, glancing at Vareysa's worried expression, with half a heart to ask for her companion's help. But she steeled herself and turned around, coming face-to-face with the Altmer approaching her with a caution that fell away the longer he stared at her, joy slowly overtaking his strong features.

"Aneril, it's you. It's really you!" He laughed and threw his arms around Aneril in a hug.

She stiffened under the sudden contact, but forced herself to relax. Aneril reached up to clasp at his back gingerly, before he drew away, holding her at arm's length as he looked her over in wonder.

"I've been hearing so many tales with your name, but I couldn't be sure if it was you. And now – here you are! Fresh from the battle, a  _soldier_. It's–" He bit on his lip, face scrunching briefly, but he didn't tear up as Aneril feared. "Aneril, I am so glad _–, blessed_ to see you again."

A twinge in her chest. "I'm… It's nice to see you, Soraltir," Aneril said drily.

Soraltir looked the same since they'd last parted years ago, if more weathered and rugged. His light brown hair was still worn short, smooth locks framing his face. The buoyant sparkle in his olive-green eyes, paired with his bright smile, was the same that had once stolen Aneril's breath away. He stood as tall and proud as ever, though now with more muscle to put weight behind his stature.

He'd opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by a question.

"Who's this?"

Aneril turned around to find Vareysa eyeing the man closely. "He was…my fiancé," she said, with more difficulty than expected.

Vareysa's gaze whipped to her in surprise. "What?"

"We were betrothed," Soraltir explained, when Aneril seemed disinclined to continue. "Our families arranged our marriage, but…it never happened." He ended with a tentative glance at Aneril, whose gaze grew distant for a moment, before focusing on Vareysa.

Aneril felt her chest grow empty as she stared back at Vareysa, then averted her eyes, turning back to Soraltir reluctantly. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm sailing with this merchant vessel. We happened by Velyn Harbour, saw it was under attack, and decided to help. Plenty of the crew knows how to fight." His lips parted in a wicked grin, magic flaring in his hands for emphasis. Then he glanced back at the docks. "Speaking of, we've got to regroup. Take stock of damage, stuff like that. May I speak to you later? Perhaps over dinner?"

Aneril nodded mutely, and watched him go. But Soraltir stopped suddenly and turned around, taking Aneril's hand, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. He looked up at her with a smile, fondness in his gaze, as he squeezed her hand gently.

"I missed you, Aneril."

She didn't react, but it didn't seem to bother him. Soraltir turned away with a smile and wave, and jogged back to the docks. Aneril watched him go, heart feeling flat, before she looked at Vareysa – who was staring after Soraltir with a frown.

"Vareysa. Let's go," Aneril said, tugging on Vareysa's arm when she didn't move.

Vareysa fell in step beside her, and it didn't take long for her to ask, "So, what happened? You're not 'betrothed' anymore, right?"

Aneril nodded.

"What happened?"

She heaved a sigh at Vareysa's insistence. "Our betrothal was annulled. He ran away before our marriage could happen."

"Yeah? But he's still acting like you're on good terms."

"He told me before he left. And…I wasn't sure about the marriage anyway."

"Oh." Vareysa seemed thoughtful. "But…did it hurt? To be left behind?"

"Not in the way you'd think," Aneril said slowly. "It wasn't heartbreak. I just…lost a friend. A good friend."

"So," Vareysa drawled. "Do you hold anything against him for leaving?"

Aneril stopped walking, staring at Vareysa. "Why all the questions?"

"I'm just curious. You never mentioned having a fiancé." Vareysa shrugged, nonchalant. "And, you know. Just want to know about the competition."

"'Competition'?" Aneril repeated incredulously. "There's no competition. What are you talking about?"

"Well,  _him_. Your ex-fiancé?"

"Yes, he's my  _ex_ -fiancé. That means he's history."

Vareysa grinned, slipping an arm around Aneril's. "That means you're still up for grabs, hm?"

"What haven't you grabbed," Aneril deadpanned, and started walking again, with Vareysa clinging to her arm. She rolled her eyes at Vareysa's impish chuckle, but a small smile curved her lips when she received a peck on her cheek.

* * *

They were given a tent to rest in, and there they stayed with Shur'azan until the sun had set. With empty stomachs, they ventured back into the town and was found by Soraltir, who led them back to his merchant vessel, where he'd reserved a cabin just for their use. The ship's cook served them dishes fit for an expensive tavern – all on Soraltir's tab – and Shur'azan was sated by a large platter of raw meat, which he chomped on beside the table.

Soraltir did most of the talking, while Vareysa shot him questions in a poorly-disguised attempt at interrogation, and though Soraltir seemed unperturbed, even amused by it, Aneril gave Vareysa a kick under the table as warning. Vareysa pouted at her, but behaved for the rest of the meal. When dinner was finished, it was obvious that the two Altmer wanted to talk longer, and Vareysa relented after a tiny nod from Aneril. She took her leave with Shur'azan, casting one last glance back at Aneril, before shutting the door behind her.

Silence fell over the cabin, and Aneril didn't bother to break it, staring blankly at the door with a dim hope that Vareysa would barge back in. But Vareysa didn't, and they were left to sit quietly, until Soraltir spoke.

"So…how have you been?  _Really_  been?" Soraltir asked, voice gentle. "You haven't been in the best of places before I left. And I've been thinking about you from time to time."

"I'm alive. That's all I can say," Aneril replied flatly.

"That bad, huh?" Soraltir smiled. "I'm sorry, Aneril. I'm just–, I am sorry. If there's anything I can do…"

Aneril pinched the bridge of her nose, frowning. The comforting touch on her arm sparked a touch of anger in her, but Aneril took a quiet breath to calm herself. "I wasn't in a good place before you left. And I–, I fell into a very bad place after you left. I know it was for both our sakes. Neither of us wanted the marriage. But I hated you for running away."

She shrugged off his hand, and set an elbow on the table to steady herself. "I hated you. But if you hadn't left, I wouldn't have felt the pressure to leave as well. I wouldn't have left that place behind. I wouldn't have joined the Fighters Guild, found a better life."

"You found your courage–"

Aneril held up a hand. "I don't need you to talk. Just listen. I hated you back then. And I wish I could say that I still hate you – it'll make things a lot easier. But I don't." She paused, then sighed tiredly. "I don't know how to feel about you, Soral. I don't want to know. I just…want to move on."

"I think you have," Soraltir said softly, clasping her hand on the table. "Despite everything, you have. And soon, you'll be able to move on – completely."

Aneril huffed, though she gave Soraltir a squeeze, before slipping her hand away. "It'll take some time for that, but…thanks. I guess."

"I should thank you as well," Soraltir said, refilling their glasses with wine. "It sets my heart at ease to find you well. Or 'alive', as you said."

The playful glint in his eyes helped to lighten her heart, and Aneril took another sip of wine – then nearly choked when Soraltir spoke after the lull in conversation.

"So, Vareysa. The two of you."

She drank down the wine without incident, and lowered her glass in thought. "I…guess."

"You 'guess'? Oh, Aneril," Soraltir laughed. "Looks to me she's already staked her claim on you. The way she stared at me and held her knife? Thought I wasn't going to survive the night."

Aneril snorted, though she felt a tinge of fondness at the thought.

"But can you imagine how your family would react? Ha!" He cackled. "Your parents would  _flip_. Disown you, probably."

"If they haven't already," Aneril pointed out with a sigh, and took a long draught of wine.

"Ah well. Who needs families like ours, anyway? Here." He raised his glass. "To making our own lives, and finding the happiness we deserve."

Aneril clinked their glasses together – more out of courtesy, really. But she felt a bit of surprise when her doubt gave way to a small bud of hope.

* * *

They'd shared many glasses of wine together, before the night came to a mellow end, and Aneril was escorted back to her tent by Soraltir, at his insistence. She raised a hand at him in farewell, smiling faintly when he waved with a grin, then made his way back to the docks with an unsteady gait.

Aneril knelt on the ground, gently patting the tiger sleeping outside the tent, before crawling into her quarters, realising belatedly that the lamp was still on. She looked at Vareysa, who sat on her bedroll with a book in her hand, and glanced up at Aneril's entrance.

"Did you drink a lot?" Vareysa asked, setting the book down to guide Aneril to her own bedroll.

"Kinda," Aneril mumbled. The world  _was_  swaying around her a little, and her cheeks felt flushed, but she wasn't so drunk that she couldn't coordinate her limbs. Still, her mind seemed to be quite sluggish, because it took her a while to realise she had sat in her bedroll, staring at Vareysa blankly while her companion pulled the covers up to her hip.

"I know I'm beautiful, Anni," Vareysa said in jest, when she noticed Aneril's stare. "Everyone's beautiful after a few drinks."

_You're always beautiful_ , Aneril wanted to say, but her tongue refused to cooperate as she was pushed gently back onto her bedroll. Accepting her fate, Aneril started to close her eyes – then opened them again when she felt Vareysa inching into her bedroll as well.

"What–?" Aneril breathed, the single word slurred by intoxication and exhaustion.

"Just making sure no one will steal you away in the middle of the night," Vareysa crooned, tapping her on the nose.

Aneril's eyes fluttered shut once more – this time, from the soft kiss gifted upon her lips. Her hand slid up to Vareysa's nape, urging her partner to deepen the kiss, lips parting in a quiet moan as Vareysa slipped into her mouth. Aneril lost herself in the taste of Vareysa mixed with wine, savouring it on her tongue, and she was left wanting more when Vareysa pulled away from her.

Vareysa laughed under her breath when Aneril clutched at her shirt, gazing at her with half-lidded eyes. "Think I'd better let you rest first." She leaned down, pecking Aneril on the lips, before lying down as well.

Vareysa rested her head on Aneril's shoulder, nestling up to her partner's side as she drew the covers up to their chests. Aneril felt the tickle of hair on the skin of her neck, and reached up to comb her fingertips through Vareysa's maroon locks.

"Good night, Anni."

Closing her eyes, Aneril felt the heavy weight of sleep settling over her. And just before the dreams took her, she mumbled, "Night, Rey."


End file.
